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LL AGE DIALOGUES. > 



DIALOGUE XVIII. 

MR. WORTHY AND FAMILY, MR. LOVEGOOD, 
AND MR. MERRYMAN. 

RACTER AND EXPERIENCE OF THE CHRISTIAN 
MINISTER EXEMPLIFIED. 






AS Henry Little worth, from a variety of circum- 
stances, was detained some weeks at Locksbury 
on Mrs. Chipman's affairs ; a detail of other events, 
during that interval," may not be unacceptable to the 
reader. 

There were a few serious and godly clergymen, 
about the neighbourhood of Brookfield, who were 
in the habit of associating together in rotation, at 
each other's houses, for the purpose of mutual 
edification in their sacred work. A meeting of this 
sort was held at Mr. Lovegood's, during the time 
when Mrs. Chipman's affairs were in agitation. 
At these meetings one of the ministers always 
preached in his turn. This office now fell to the 
lot of Mr. Merryman ; and an admirable and affec- 
ting sermon he preached, in some respects not less 
suitable to his own experience than to that of Mrs. 
Clupman, from the following text : " And such 
were some of you ; but ye are washed, but ye are 

Vol. LI. B 






... 

sanctified, but ye are justified, in the name of the 
Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God." This 
sermon was not less grateful to the mind of Mr. 
Lovegood, than consolatory to the wounded con- 
science of the unhappy Mrs. Chipman. They say 
also, that the sermon was blessed to Mr. Guager, 
the exciseman of the parish, who, being himself an 
ignorant and giddy youth, and having heard that 
Mr. Merr} man was, till of late, one of his own 
stamp, was struck with his warm and affectionate 
address from the abovementioned text, and that he 
now lives to God, as being himself also, " alive 
from the dead." Mr. Merry man, who was supposed 
to have some secret inclination toward Miss Worthy, 
after this meeting continued principally the guest of 
Mr. Worthy for some days : a Sabbath intervening, 
an exchange of labours was mutually agreed upon 
between Mr. Lovegood and Mr. Merryman, while 
such a friendly and Christian intercourse proved 
of equal advantage to both their congregations. Mr. 
Worthy found himself very happy with such a guest 
in his house as his domestic chaplain; and if in deep 
thought and contemplative religion, he was inferior 
to Mr. Lovegood, yet he was possessed of a lively 
zeal, which rendered him a very useful minister to 
many of his neighbours. 

Under a sanctified use of his natural vivacity and 
constitutional courage, he was ever ready to impress 
on others the same blessed truths, by the knowledge 
of which, a change so glorious had been accom- 
plished on his own mind. Thus, while at Mr. Wor- 
thy's, he would go round his pleasure grounds, and 
talk to all his labourers ; if he stepped into the 
stable-yard, or into any of the neighbouring cot- 
tages, he would have some instructive hints to drop 
that he might leave a savour of the Gospel wherever 
he went ; and this he did in such a cheerful and en- 



gagim 



yle, as frequently rendered him very suc- 
cessful in his attempts. 

In the days of his ignorance he was lirfit, frothv, 
and vain ; but as soon as he was made a partaker of 
the Grace of God, -thoiurh he retained all that be- 
longed to his natural disposition, yet he had cheerful- 
ness without levity, and became not less profitable 
than lovely and pleasant in his deportment. It is, 
however, a very supposable event, that persons of such 
natural vivacity should fall into some mistakes ; and 
an instance of this kind was exhibited by Mr. Mer- 
ryman during this visit. 

One morninsr he called at Thomas Newman's, 
with whose company and conduct he was much de- 
lighted; while there, old Susan Dowdy, an honest 
shoemaker's wife, called in with a pair of shoes for 
Betty, and with others belonging to the children, 
which had been carefully cobbled. Thomas being 
remarkably laborious, could not live without his 
rest ; and being as remarkably honest, he could not 
rest if he was in debt : while, therefore, he was 
preparing to pay the demand, Mr. Merryman very 
affectionately discharged it for him. Upon the de- 
parture of old Dowdy, Mr. Merryman having disco- 
vered that she knew something of the blessed reali- 
ties of the gospel, mentioned to Thomas, that his 
next visit should be to see her and her husband: 
" Ah," said Thomas, " I believe she is a precious 
old dame; but it Avas Dowdy's money made the 
match." Betty adjoins, " My dear, that is nothing 
to us, all have a right to settle those matters as they 
like best:" and Mr. Merryman being frequently 
a little absent, dropped all further investigation of the 
subject; 

On the next day the promised visit took place. 
As soon as Mr. Merryman entered the house, he 



saw an active young man most diligently occupied 
at his stall; a young woman as industriously en- 
gaged in the household affairs ; and the notable old 
woman at her spinning wheel, with the spectacles 
over her nose, pulling and tugging away as fast and 
as hard as she could ; and her husband's grandfather 
sitting in the chimney corner, quite decrepid with 
age. Alas for Mr. Merryman ! he first began con- 
versing with the husband's grandfather as the hus- 
band of old Dowdy, next with the husband as with 
her son, and then with the other young woman as a 
daughter, though she happened to be old Dowdy's 
daughter by a former marriage, still supposing 
himself perfectly correct. The family kept silence, 
not being willing to expose themselves^ and the 
prayer with which he concluded his visit, was a dis- 
tinct echo of all these unfortunate mistakes. 

On the evening of the day at Mr. Worthy's he 
gave the history of his visits ; the family knowing 
the preposterous match which had taken place be- 
tween old Dowdy and her young husband, joined 
in a general laugh at the expence of Mr. Merry- 
man's blunder, — a blunder not to be corrected 
by any apology whatever. All, however, agreed, 
that as good men do good, even by their innocent 
mistakes, it might answer as an excellent reproof 
to the parties concerned ; as all such preposterous 
matches are very contrary to that decency and 
propriety of conduct we should be careful to main- 
tain in our social and relative connexions through 
hie. 

It will, however, at once be admitted, that such 
blunders were no blemishes in the character of one, 
whose natural simplicity and undisguised integrity, 
and whose uncommon tenderness and humanity 
were of late become so very conspicuous. Still, 



whatever Mr. Merrvman did, it was all done in his 
own way. A specimen of this was exhibited during 
his present visit to Mr. Worthy. 

On the Thursday after the Sabbath he went on 
business to Mapleton market. A bustle was created 
by the anxiety of a cow, in attending upon her calf, 
while driven about the market ; and, in the bustle, 
a board, on which an old woman had placed her 
oranges, and apples, and gingerbread, &c. was up- 
set : a rabble of children attempted to avail them- 
selves of this misfortune, and began a scramble for 
her goods. Mr. Merrvman humanely considered 
that her little all was then at stake, and that if she 
was permitted to be robbed of her slender stock in 
trade the calamity would be deeply felt : imme- 
diately he snatched an oaken stick out of the hands 
of a gaping peasant who stood by ; drove away 
the unruly mob, and then gave his helping hand 
to collect the poor woman's scattered commodities, 
and to replace them on the board. He next. gave 
the clown a sixpence, for the use of his cudgel, who 
doff \l his hat and thanked his honour for his kind- 
ness : another shilling he gave to the poor old wo- 
man, as much of her barley-sugar was so broken 
as to be unfit for sale. She then begged leave 
to reward Mr. Merryman's kindness with one of 
her best oranges, which he accepted ; gave her 
another sixpence and departed ; she sending after 
him a thousand blessings for the kind protection 
she had received in the hour of her distress. Her 
next inquiry was, who the young gentleman could 
be who treated her with such kindness, and when 
she was told that it was Mr. Merry man, the Rector 
of Sandover, she remarked, that she was sure he 
must be a good Christian-hearted gentleman ; that 
she had heard many people say, that though he 

B 2 



10 

was a sad wicked black once, yet that of late he had 
been wonderfully reformed, and that since then he 
had become a brave man in the pulpit, and vowed 
she would strive hard but that she would go and 
hear him ; and, who knows, but that the old wo- 
wan's heart having been softened by this kind event, 
when she was able to put her resolution into effect, 
the word of life she heard might become " the 
power of God to the eternal salvation of her soul !" 

Perhaps the reader may judge by another instance 
of Mr. Merryman's way of doing good, what was 
the real style and spirit of his character. 

He was in the habit of giving an occasional visit 
to Mr. Meek, and was, as we may naturally suppose, 
registered among the list of his contributors, that 
Mr. Meek might not suffer a state next to starvation, 
from the cruelty and meanness of the redoubtable 
Rector Fillpot. 

On Mr. Merryman's return from this visit, when 
he was within three miles of Sandover, he observed 
a poor disbanded soldier, who could scarcely totter 
along the road, sustaining the burden of a heavy 
knapsack, although in a deep decline, and travelling 
home for parochial relief. The few shillings which 
were given him upon his discharge were now ex- 
hausted ; and the weather being warm, he could 
afford himself no better beverage than a draft of 
w r ater from a ditch on the road. While he made this 
attempt he fell down and had not power to arise. 
Mr. Merryman at first supposed he might be intoxi- 
cated, as he observed many passing by without tak- 
ing the least notice of him : he thought, however, 
he would ride up to him, and enquire into the real 
state of the case, and as soon as he discovered him 
to be the object of such commiseration, his heart 
began to meit ; immediately, wiping the sympathe- 



11 

tic tear which was preparing to start from his eye, 
placed him upon his own beast, and lead him to San- 
dover with the greatest attention and care. 

If ever humanity road triumphant, it was on this 
occasion ; when a youth who, till of late, had been 
so dissipated and profane, having obtained mercy 
himself, began to exemplify it in such kind abun- 
dance to others. Thus, as Mr. Merry man's heart 
was teeming with compassion all the time, the poor 
soldier was beholding, with astonishment and sur- 
prise, the tenderness and love of his myst kind con- 
ductor, while so many others could pass by before 
him, without shewing even a distant inclination to 
give him the least relief. 

As soon as they arrived at Sandover, Mr. Merry- 
man provided the poor man a lodging in a decent 
public-house, left him half a crown for his present 
necessities, and promised on the next day to repeat 
his visit. It was Mr. Merryman's intention to have 4 
sent the poor soldier home to his ow r n connexions, 
in style more consistent with humanity ; but this 
was soon found to be entirely impracticable ; the 
progress of his disease becoming very rapid. He 
lived, however, a sufficient length of time to give 
good evidence, that he was brought to deep repent- 
ance under a sense of the evil of sin, his former life 
having been dissolute ; and he died with an humble 
confidence in u the grace and mercy of our Lord 
Jesus Christ unto eternal liie." 

This lovely instance of humanity exhibited by 
Mr. Merry man, jtfi having thus turned footman to 
the poor soldier, made a considerable talk : and bore 
such an odd appearance, especially in the eyes of 
the prudish and the 101 mui, though so near a resem- 
blance of what our Lord applauded in the merciful 
Samaritan, that it naturally subjected him to some 
ridicule and contempt. Mr. Spiteful said, he always 



12 

thought him a low mean fellow, and that he was 
much fitter to be the helper of a groom in a stable- 
yard than to mount the pulpit ; and Mr. Arch- 
deacon Smoothtongued objection it seems was, that 
it was a letting down of the dignity of the clerical 
character, and that it was all affectation, and a sort 
of Quixote righteousness, that all the orderly clergy 
should be ashamed of; though, it is to be feared, 
the archdeacon himself had no righteousness of any 
sort whatever, while Mr. Merryman's own friends 
and neighbours well knew the integrity of his heart. 
All that he did, in his free and easy manner, ap- 
peared lovely in their sight, especially when they 
considered the principle of divine grace whereby 
he was thus constrained to act 

After the above observations and anecdotes, I 
should suppose the reader might wish to know still 
more of Mr. Merryman, and how it was that so 
blessed a change had been wrought upon his mind ; 
the following dialogue shall therefore eive the reader 
the information he wishes to receive. 

The decorations designed for the Golden Lion 
hate aire tdy jpeen noticed ; and these having been 
speedily accomplished, as the spring was now ad- 
vancing, Mr. Worthy and family* Mr. Lovegood, 
and Mr. Merryman, one week-day evening, walked 
thither to examine their effects ; and in order to 
give proper encouragement to the worthy publican, 
ordered that tea should be brought out, the weather 
being then remarkably fine and serene, under a 
large spreading pear-tree. While Mr. Worthy's 
gamekeeper was directed to bring a casting net, that 
they might take some trout out of the meandering 
brook, from whence the village is named, for the 
use of the family, and as a present for Mr. Love- 
good : during this innocent amusement, properly so 
called, the following conversation took place. 



Merryman. Pray, Sir, have you heard how Mr. 
Dolittle is after his fall ? it has been reported he is 
not likely to recover. 

Lovegood. O no, Sir, he was not so much bruised 
as was reported : I arr> told he is already nearly 
recovered, and that last Sunday afternoon he was at 
church. 

Merry m. To return thanks I suppose that he did 
not break his neck by the terrible disaster— Well, 
well, I dare not boast that I am not as other men ; I 
am sure I must say, " by the grace of God I am what 
I am, 5 ' If I had still been left to myself, I know 
that I should have been in the thickest of them. I am 
ashamed when I recollect, for near tw 7 o years after I 
was ordained, what a disgrace I was to my profession. 

Wor. Why I am afraid, Mr. Merryman, you ne- 
ver was in the way of good till you heard Mr. Love- 
good at the visitation. 

Merrym. Indeed, Sir, from my childhood, I never 
had any thing placed before me but what was calcu- 
lated to feed the corrupt propensities of my heart. 
My poor father had but a small fortune, with a large 
family : and though he was in the lq|v line, he did 
not get much by his profession ; for there were too 
many lawyers in our town ; and they were in gene- 
ral such greedy sharks that they stuck at nothing ; 
so that people thought it necessary to submit to any 
thing sooner than employ a lawyer. 

Wor. I am afraid then you had but a bad exam- 
ple at home. 

Merrym. I cannot recollect that there was much 
outward immorality practised in our house, except- 
ing that my father was much given to swearing; 
and he never went to. church, and my mother very 
seldom. 



14 

Loveg. How then did your father spend his time 
on the Sunday ? 

Merrt/m. Mostly in his office, and in his business ; 
he did ail in his power to avoid the expence and trou- 
ble of keeping a clerk. 

JLovev. Was there then no outward skrn or cere- 
mony kept up in your family, from which you might 
gather the existence of a God ? 

Merym. It grieves me to say, I was bred up in 
perfect ignorance. We had not even with us the 
decent form of asking a blessing over our meals. 

Wbr. How then came your parents to think of 
breeding you up to the church, as it is called? 

Merry m. O, Sir, though it was my father's de- 
sign to have educated me in his own profession ; yet, 
from my infancy I never could fix on any thing. 
And the dry study of the law was so contrary to my 
natural inclinations, that my father could never get 
me to submit to it at any rate. While I was fag- 
ging at the office, I would make any excuse to go 
and shoot the sparrows off the peas and fruit in the 
garden. In the summer I would run away and shew 
all possible tricks and fancies as an expert swimmer 
and diver ; and in the winter, during a hard frost, 
he could never keep me off the ice ; while I was as 
proud and vain of my ability as a skaiter, as I was 
gratified and pleased with the admiration of the 
spectators. 

JVor. But it must be acknowledged these are 
among the more innocent of the diversions of youth, 
though it is a difficult matter to correct young minds 
in the excess of these pleasures : and when the incli- 
nations are captivated by them, no wonder if such 
should be given over to an idle and dissipated frame 
of mind ail the days of their lives. 

Merrym. I don't know that I first pursued these 



13 

pleasures with what may be called an immoral de- 
sign : but, from the unguarded levity of my mind, I 
soon found that this disposition grew up with me, 
and that I was entirely captivated and overcome by 
them : so that after I was ordained, I am ashamed 
to think, how much more I was wedded to my 
sports than to the church : and though I did all in 
my power to put on a little decency in not running 
after them quite so eagerly on a Sunday as on a 
week-day ; yet, notwithstanding the day, if I heard 
of a hare, or a covey of partridges, being near my 
house, I was sure to be after them. And as for skait- 
ing, I was no sooner out of the church but I was on 
the ice : and I remember one Sunday, while I was 
skaiting, an old gentleman, who was a justice of 
peace, though since dead, sent. a constable after me, 
begging that I would not break the Sabbath, but 
set a better example to my parishioners. As for 
other idle amusements, such as cricket matches, 
hunting and coursing, I was at all times a ringleader 
in these sports. And after I had done with my out- 
of-door diversions, the rest of my time was sure to 
be spent at a playhouse, or in a ball or billiard room, 
or at a card- table : even such a low paltry amuse- 
ment as a puppet-shew, or a country wake or revel 
would captivate ray attention, and draw me aside ; 
I am quite ashamed of myself, to think how giddy 
and foolish 1 have been. In short, I was captivated 
by every vain amusement but those of cock-fighting 
and buli-baiting ; these abominable exhibitions of 
cruelty, even at that period, to me were very dis- 
gusting. 

Wor. But did it not strike you that hunting, and 
especially horse-racing, were but very little less cruel 
than bull-baiting or cock-fighting? 

Merrym. Yes, thoughts of that sort would at 
times occur ; but it was in my heart to " run with 



16 

the multitude to do evil:" and I have since experi- 
enced, that we know nothing of the real tenderness 
which possesses the Christian, till the living power 
of Christianity has been communicated to our hearts, 

Loveg. Then you must have been sadly out of 
your element when you got into orders. 

Merry m. Indeed I was, excepting when I turned 
soldier ; and got a captain's commission during the 
war ; and when the salutary advice of the bishops 
came out against us, to support, by our conduct and 
advice, our excellent civil constitution, but not to turn 
our black coats into red ones, I confess I very much 
disliked it. For nothing but worldly motives was I 
sent into the church, and while I hated my black 
coat, I hated equally my contemptible inconsistency 
all the time I wore a red one. 

Wor. Alas, how much it is to be lamented, that 
matters of such infinite importance should be given 
over into such hands ! In this instance, what man 
did as evil, God has overruled for good. But you 
have not yet told us, while you was in such a 
thoughtless state, how you came to think of the 
church. 

Merry m. Indeed, Sir, that never was a thought 
of mine. But when my father and uncle, who had 
the family estate, were together, he used to swear, 
that I was so thoughtless and inattentive, that I 
should never get my bread by law, physic, or trade, 
and that I should be fit/or nothing but a parson. 
My uncle, therefore, promised him, that if he 
would send me to the University, as he had two 
livings belonging to his estates, he would give me 
one of them, provided none of his own children 
chose to take orders, And as all my cousins were 
much fonder of the sea and the army than of the 
church, I was obliged to submit to the penalty of 
being turned into a parson for the sake of a living. 



And when the living of Sandover became vacant, my 
uncle gave it to old Mr. Mumble, who was between 
seventy and eighty, on condition that I should be his 
curate ; and I had not been his curate above nine 
months before he died, and then my uncle presented 
me with the living. 

Wor. I thought it was common to put mini- 
sters into possession of livings, on condition of a re- 
signation. ._* 

Merry m. Yes, but my father, as a lawyer, knew 
that no liw whatsoever could compel any minister 
to resign his living if he chose to keep it ; so he sup- 
posed this was the safest way. 

Wor. What terrible merchandise is made of il'Jt 
souls of men by such a traffic, and how ruinous is it 
in its consequences to real religion in the church ! 

Merry m. I am sure this had nearly proved my 
ruin ; for after this matter was determined upon, I 
was to he packed oB to a public school, where every 
thing like religion was as much out of the question as 
it well could be, excepting that we were all compell- 
ed to go to church on a Sunday. 

Loveg. When I received the first rudiments of 
my education at the free grammar school at Beachly, 
we had never the least intimation given us, even in 
a formal way, about religion : but in my time I found 
it much worse at the University than at Beachly. 

Merry m. I am sure the state of too many of the 
clergy can never be wondered at, when we consider 
the method of their education for the ministry ;— 
though in those days I was so loose &nd wild that I 
thought nothing about the matter. 

Wor. Why I thought our Universities were in 
general repute ; and that all, who applied, might 
avail themselves of an excellent education : at least 
I found it so when I was there. 

Loveg. Sir, your remark is perfectly just; but I 

Vol. II. C 



18 

am sorry to add, at least as it was in my days, leaving 
religion oat of the question. You are frowned upon if 
you are over righteous, or over wicked ; but as to 
real spiritual religion, though I confess I am but a 
poor judge how matters Khen stood, yet I fear it is 
very little thought of. I remember however that 
there were some reproachful sneers circulated against 
a few, that since then I have heard were really 
serious ; but they were obliged to keep themselves 
very close " for fear of the Philistines." But I must 
confess that, though I was kept perfectly morSl and 
attentive while at college, yet I knew nothing of real 
spirituality till about three months after I was curate 
of Abley. 

Mrs. Worthy. I think, Sir, you have told us be- 
fore now, that the first serious impressions you ever 
felt, were when you began to try to make your own 
sermons. 

Loveg. Though I had my qualms when at college 
that all was not right, yet it was in a great measure 
so, Madam ; for as I was accustomed to make the 
exercises for the boys at school, and was frequently 
occupied in the same way at the University ; I 
thought after all this, it would be quite scandalous 
for me to go about to buy, beg, and borrow sermons 
after I was admitted into orders. 

Mrs. JVor. Dear sir, as your coming into these 
parts was such a blessing to our family, and many 
more besides ourselves, we should be glad if you 
would proceed on a subject so interesting to us all. 

Loveg. Why, Madam, when I began to try to com- 
pose my own sermons, it came into my mind that I 
should make them somewhat like the Bible : the 
Bishop, when he ordained us, said we should not 
always be preaching mere moral essays; but that at 
times we should dwell on the evangelical truths of the 
^ible. 



19 « 

Wor. Well, Sir, that was good advice. 

Loveg. It proved excellent advice to me, for it 
immediately set me on the study of the New Testa- 
ment : but, alas, I soon found the spiritual eye was 
wanting, whereby spiritual truths alone can be dis- 
cerned : for as to many things I found in the gospels, 
I had enough to do to make even them out ; but when 
I came to the epistles, I soon discovered myself to be 
quite out of my depth, as the few pre-conceived 
notions I had' of religion seemed to be entirely con- 
tradicted by them. And when I had procured some 
of the fashionable commentators of the day, such as 
Whitby, Locke, and Zachary Pearce, the late Bishop 
of Rochester ; all I got from them confused me but 
the more ; as it always struck me that the comment 
contradicted the text, and that instead of explaining 
matters, they seemed to be explaining them away* 
Some things were to be confined to primitive times, 
and others restricted to the Christians, as just coming 
from under the Jewish dispensation : and much of 
the Bible was to mean next to nothing, because 
it was figurative and metaphorical ; but when I came 
to look on Zachary Pearce 5 s comment on that strik- 
ing passage, " One thing is needful ; " notwithstand- 
ing all his learning, that did for him completely in 
my esteem. 

Wor. Why, what did he make of it ? 

Loveg. That one dish was enough for supper. 

Wor. Is it possible ? what a strange letting down 
of such a fine expression ! 

Merry m. $Yes, and I remember, with shame, in 
our different carousings with each other, in our pro- 
fane mirth, how we used to laugh at the interpreta- 
tion, by saying, neither one dish, nor one bottle, 
Mould be enough for us. 

Loveg. Well, well, I bless God I could get no sa- 
tisfaction from these lame interpreters. And one 



20 

evening, how was I struck, when, seeking for a text, 
my eves were fixed on those words of St. Paul, in his 
epistle to the Colossians — " Ye are dead, and your 
life is hid with Christ in God." For a time! could 
make nothing of the expression, till others, Very 
similar, forcibly entered my mind, about being 
"crucified with Christ ; " being " dead and buried with 
him ;" and of our " being risen with him ;" and then 
that passage in our church catechism, as it relates to 
what is required of all baptized Christians, " a death 
unto sin, and a new birth unto righteousness." It 
struck me that I had been directed to instruct 
children in a doctrine which was entirely unknown 
to my own heart, and that I was a blind leader of 
the blind. At that moment I fell down on my knees, 
and wept excessively ; and prayed, I think, from the 
bottom of my heart for the first time, that i might 
not presume to continue to be the pretended in- 
structor of the ignorant, while so ignorant myself. 

Wor. I suppose, after this, the tenor of your 
preaching was immediately altered. 

Loveg. Sir, the change was still gradual. I knew 
I was wrong, but 1 did not know how I could be set 
right ; but herein the providence of God wonderfully 
favoured me. 

Merrym. I have often heard you explain the na- 
ture of our conversion from sin to God ; but I never 
heard you explain so particularly the nature of your 
own conversion. — I wish you would proceed. 

Loveg. When first I came to my curacy, I was 
told that five or six people went regularly, Sunday 
after Sunday, to hear the Rev. Mr. Slapdash, 
who has a small living in those parts. He is an 
animated bold preacher ; and is attended by a large 
congregation ; and I never could hear but that his 
zeal is tempered with prudence ; and that he is a 
good man : and that, though he has a strong, ra- 



pid, hasty way of expressing himself, yet what he 
delivers is entirely consistent with the sound truths 
of the gospel. Still their absenting themselves from 
the church gave considerable offence to the pride of 
my heart, not knowing that it was my ignorance 
which drove them at a distance. 

One Sunday, however, these young men, con- 
trary to their usual custom, stopt at home to hear 
me. It was about the time when that text of scrip- 
ture so impressed my mind. Ignorance of my Bible, 
and consequently, unfitness for my office, intermixed 
with other workings of corruption from the pride 
and anger of my heart, on account of my dark pre- 
conceived notions in religion, having been so con- 
tradicted by the word of God, affected me not a lit- 
tle. In this state of mind I was obliged to preach 
as well as I could ; and I remember I was remarkably 
low and affected on the Sunday these young men 
stopt to hear me. And while I was preaching, I 
saw them nodding and smiling, first at me, and then 
at each other, in such an uncommon manner, that 1 
could not conceive but that thev meant to be laurfi- 
ing at me for my ignorance all the time 5 1 especially 
as it was reported, that the man they went to hear, 
was quite a madman. Upon this, I went the next 
day, in order to converse with them on what I; con- 
ceived to be their odd conduct at church ; my mind 
being much perplexed, and my spirits very low 5 and 
having determined to speak to them with much mild- 
ness ; I no sooner began to open my mouth, but 
tears started from my eyes. I told them they should 
not have laughed at me before all the congregation, 
on account of what they thought of my ignorance, 
for that I did my best ; and that 1 hoped and prayed 
to God, if I was not right, he would set me right. 

Wor. Well, and v/hat effect had this upon the 
young men ? 

€ & ir- :.'»■ , * 



22 

Loveg. Why they were as much affected as my- 
self at rny misconceptions of them. They told me 
that their smiles and nods were the effect not of 
sneering contempt, but of holy approbation and joy ; 
for they were fully persuaded that I should soon be- 
come a faithful minister of the Gospel: : and that as 
they never went to church while young Mr. Wanton 
was the curate, yet as they saw me so different from 
him, and as it was reported that I was soon like to be 
melancholy mad, they thought I might be under 
some serious impressions respecting the state of my 
soul : and if I continued to preach as I had done, 
they should soon discontinue hearing Mr. Slapdash, 
thoughjie was a very powerful and lively preacher, 
as they called him, and a very good man. 

Wor. Then you found these young men to be 
truly serious and good. 

Loveg. Yes, and two of them I found to be useful 
and profitable companions to me, having good un- 
derstandings, which they had well improved by 
reading various religious authors among themselves : 
and I was much struck before we parted, at the great 
modesty with which they expressed themselves, 
wishing I would but read some of their books which 
they read among themselves, that they might have 
my opinion how far I approved of them. They then 
shewed me their little library ; and one of them par- 
ticularly requested me to read the Pilgrim's Progress, 
with very precious notes, which they said, by way of 
recommending it, were written by a very learned 
man, and which I was the more willing to do, as I re- 
membered reading it as a novel when a child. Among 
other books, I saw they had Brown's self-interpreting 
Bible ; and as I began to be entirely sick of my old 
commentators, I begged to borrow it. This they 
very readily consented to; so I put the Pilgrim's 
Progress in one pocket, and Boston's Four-fold State 



23 

in the other, and went home ; and when I took my 
leave of them, I was very much surprised at their 
humble and affectionate farewell ; following me with 
a thousand blessings, and thanking me most affection- 
ately for my visit. Soon afterwards I found one of 
them at my heels with Brown's Bible, which they 
wished me to keep as long as I chose. 

Wor. Well, this was a kind providence ; but how 
did you seem to like your new authors ? did you 
much admire their choice of books for you ? The 
Pilgrim's Progress, I confess, is an inimitable drama, 
and beautifully describes the state of the real Chris- 
tian in his spiritual progress ; yet Bunyan, in the ge- 
neral way, happens to be the humble treasure of di- 
vinity in the poor man's cottage ; and I fear is not so 
often to be found in the study of a contemplative 
divine. 

Loveg. Sir, if God had conferred on me the ho- 
nour of being the author of the Pilgrim's Progress, 
I should have been tempted to be the proudest man 
upon earth. However, the simplicity and affection, 
of the good people I went to see, led me to cast my 
eyes over that book a second time, very much to my 
profit. For on the same day I shut myself up in my 
study, and began to read : page after page, my at- 
tention was arrested : and as I pursued the subject, 
light continued to break in upon my mind, while it 
brought me upon my knees again and again. I now 
began to see, somewhat clearly, the plan of the gos- 
pel salvation alone by Jesus Christ. Every para- 
graph I read was intermixed with a tear of thankful- 
ness and surprise ; and night after night I was happy 
to be sleepless, that I might pursue the pilgrims on 
their road, as I now began to find I could travel 
with them, while every step appeared plain before 
me. 

Wor. It is lovely work, when we tan read and 



24 

meditate under such a frame of mind. I remember 
how I used to hate to read the Bible, merely be- 
cause I couicf not understand it ; but- as soon as I 
couid enter into its meaning, I found no ibook like it 
I remember, some time ago, in the library at my 
house, I laid my hands upon a book written by Bishop 
Patrick, called the Parable of the Pilgrim, but I found 
it a heavy perfo: mance. 

Loveg. Yes, Sir, I have heard *of it ; it is a large 
Jumpy volume, though the bishop was a serious and 
respectable man ; yet while Bunyan keeps you awake 
Patrick lulls you asleep. 

Merrym. It seems, then, that the tinker was a 
wiser man than the bishop, 

Loveg. Why no man gets either brains or grace 
by education or title; many gifts of this sort we may 
receive as the gifts of the God of nature, or of pro- 
vidence ; but a sanctified use of these blessings 
comes only from the God of grace. Bunyan was 
certainty a very eminent man. Once, it seems, he 
was very profligate, but afterwards not less serious : 
and though he had none of the advantages of edu- 
cation, yet he certainly had a very good natural* 
understanding, a deep knowledge of the word of God 
and of the human heart, and at the same time very 
rich and chaste powers of invention. Such was the 
character of the author of the Pilgrim's Progress ; 
and to the last moment of my life, shall I bless God 
for that book. 

Merrym. But if this formerly wicked tinker be- 
came so good a man, and such an excellent preacher 
and writer, is it not to be lamented that some of our 
present preachers were not turned into tinkers, pro- 
vided we could get such another set of tinkers to be 
turned into preachers? 

War. I perceive Mr. Merryman will be Mr. Mery- 
man still. But we interrupt Mr. Lovegood in his story. 



; 25 

Loveg. Why, I bless God, that I immediately 
found myself not less charmed with my Bible than 
with the Pilgrim's Progress ; its glorious contents, 
begun to open surprisingly to my mind, and the 
truths which before displeased me, I not only could 
receive without controversy, but with supreme ap- 
probation and delight. 

Mrs* JFor. You have also told us the great advan- 
tage you received from Mrs. Goodworth, after you 
became acquainted with her ; perhaps Mr. Merry- 
man does not know that circumstance. 

Merrym. Who was Mrs. Goodworth ? 

Loveg. She was the aged widow of a dissenting 
minister ; and when I first came into the parish, I 
was told that she was such an ill-natured, cross- 
grained, dissenting bigot, that she would sooner see 
the church pulled down, than enter within the doors. 
But a few days after my visit to the young men, 
they went and informed her of the result of our con- 
versation, and the next Sunday, to my great surprise, 
I; found her added to the number of my congrega- 
tion ; and as much delighted and affected as were the 
young men the Sunday before. On the Monday I 
thought it my duty to return the visit. I found the 
old lady nursing her grandchildren : she took me in- 
to a little back parlour, and immediately burst into 
tears of joy, telling me, that, through the straitness 
of her circumstances, she was obliged to live with 
her married daughter ; mentioning how much it had 
affected her, having been under the necessity of 
leaving the means of grace, by living at a distance 
from the meeting where her husband preached, and 
that, though she could not go after the gospel, she 
humbly trusted the gosptrl was now sent after her : 
that she never kept from the church out of bigotry, 
but only because she feared Mr. Wanton, my prede- 
very impure, and consequently a very im 



26 ¥ 

proper man to administer the word of life to others, 
being himself " dead in trespasses and sins;" but 
that now she not only meant to come to church, but 
to sacrament also, if I would permit her. She then 
asked me to go to prayer: this was new work to me, 
and put me to the blush. However, as I had in pri- 
vate lately found my way to a throne of grace, I did 
not refuse, though, if it had not been for shame, I 
should rather have put that office upon the old lady : 
as I am sure I needed her prayers more than she did 
mine. Thus we parted, she sending after me many 
blessings, and prayers for my growth in grace, and 
for my increase in divine knowledge. The next 
time the communion was administered, she was with 
us at the table ; and I well remember, when I gave 
her the elements, how affectionately she looked up at 
me, and wept so plentifully that she even bedewed 
my hands with her tears. What a sweet proof was 
this of the loving and uniting spirit of the gospel, a- 
mong all who love the Lord Jesus in sincerity ! 

Wor. I have no doubt, but your acquaintance \vith 
the good old lady was very profitable. 

Loveg. Yes, sir ; and still more so, as I got ac- 
quainted with her library : for though she had sold 
some of her husband's books, yet others of them she 
had preserved. Among these, I found many of the 
writings of Owen, Flavell, President Edwards, Gur- 
nall's Christian in complete Armour, Archbishop 
Usher on the Sum and Substance of the Christian Re- 
ligion, Bishop Downham on Justification, Bishop 
Hall's Works, and others ; these she used to call her 
Sunday company ; and to these I had at all times 
free access; and about three years _ afterwards, when 
she found herself in dying circumstances, she gave 
me several of them as keep-sakes. 

Merry m. The loss of this good old lady must have 
considerably affected you. 



27 

Loveg. Yes; but then her death was so glorious ! 
On my last visit she cried, " This is not dying; 
believers never die: I am just going to enter the 
presence chamber of my Lord. 5 ' And then she sung 
with peculiar melody of heart that verse from Dr. 
Watts, (whose hymns she frequently quoted in her 
last sickness.) 

A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, 

On thy kind arms I fall ; 
Be thou my strength and righteousness, 

My Jesus and my all. 

Then she would cry out, " O, this precious believ- 
ing in the Son of God !" " Eye hath not seen, nor 
ear heard, neither have entered the heart of man, the 
things which God hath prepared for them that love 
him ;" " He hath loved me, and given himself for 
me;" and he sheds abroad this his most precious 
love in my heart ; and I feel it like a warm coal of 
living fire, while I am struggling in the cold arms of 
death. Thus she went on, blessing and praising 
God, and triumphing in the redeeming love of 
Christ, to the latest moments of her life ; repeatedly 
saying, " O death, where is thy sting ! O grave, 
where is thy victory !" O, sir, it is a glorious sight 
to see believers departing in the triumphs of faith, 
and with " a hope full of immortality." 

Wor. No doubt, but that your acquaintance with 
all these good people proved a considerable help, 
though they were inferior to you in point of educati- 
onal knowledge. 

Loveg. Yes; but I found myself much inferior to 
them in point of experimental knowledge. No earth- 
ly wibdom, however good in its place, will do as 
a substitute for " that wisdom which is from above." 
But I soon got acquainted with two very excellent 
clergymen in those parts, and with a worthy dissent- 
ing minister, whose name was Peaceful, and who 



28 

was in the habit of calling on Mrs. Good worth, 
though they all lived at some distance from us. 

Wor. We should be glad if you would tell us how 
that was brought about. N 

o 

Loveg. Why, sir, the next Sunday, only two of the 
young men attended the church, and I suspect the^ 
went over to Mr. Slapdash ; for, about a fortnight after, 
I received an anonymous, though affectionate, letter, 
signed " Faucis inter Clerum*," mentioning their 
exceeding joy on the report which had been com- 
municated to them, declaring at the same time, that 
they sought my acquaintance from the purest mo- 
tives of Christianity, and from a desire of cultivating 
the most affectionate intimacy with all the spiritual 
and evangelical ministers of their own community. 
Interwoven in this letter, there was a great number 
of very strong and animated expressions, warning 
me against the fear of man ; and charging me to 
preach the gospel, and the gospel only, faithfully, 
and directly to the sinner's heart and conscience, 
as far as divine light broke in upon my mind ; so 
that it immediately struck me that Mr. Slapdash was 
the principal composer of the letter. 

Wor. Well, sir, and there is no doubt but this 
proved a gracious circumstance in your favour. 

Loveg. Sir, it proved a gracious circumstance in- 
deed^ for immediately I wrote an answer to their 
truly affectionate letter, and, a few days after, Mr. 
Slapdash came over to my lodgings ; and how the 
dear man rejoiced over me to find me in such a frame 
of mind ! Indeed, all things considered, he proved the 
best, and most suitable companion I ever met with. 
You know I am naturally timid ; Mr. Slapdash is al- 
together Lutheran and bold, yet not less loving and 
affectionate; and though, perhaps, every word he, 

* From a few among the clergy. 



advances may not be within the severer rules of mo- 
deration, yet I believe that his bold strokes and wild 
notes are more serviceable for the good of his neigh- 
bours, than, all the fine set music we may have about 
the country besides. 

Merry m. How long, sir, did you continue in that 
curacy ? 

Loveg* Not much more than four years ; for when 
I began to be serious, and to preach the salvation of 
Christ, my Rector was soon informed of it, and wrote 
me several letters on my " new notions of religion," 
as he called them, which brought on a long epistolary 
correspondence : "but when he heard that I had preach- 
ed a funeral sermon on the death of Mrs. Good worth, 
and that I walked with Mr. Peaceful, as a brother 
minister, to the grave, his patience was quite exhaust- 
ed, and he gave me warning to quit* 

Wor* Why, where could be the harm of that ? 

Loveg. Sir, my rector had imbibed all the strange, 
wild, high- church notions of Mr* Baubeny and 
others, in such an extravagant manner, that he sup- 
posed I had been guilty of the most enormous crime, 
in preaching a funeral sermon over one that had re- 
ceived schismatical baptism, and had lived in schism 
almost all the days of her life. 

Merry m. Why, did not your preaching bring her 
back again to the church ? 

Loveg. Yes, but all that operated against me : he 
supposed me to be at least half a schismatic myself, 
since such a set schismatical people ran after me. 
And again, he had heard from the neighbouring 
clergy, that I drew away people from their regular 
attendance at their own parish churches : thus, for 
having a Jull church, and for bringing Dissenters to 
the communion, I lost my curacy ; while other cler- 
gymen are driving Churchmen to be Dissenters with- 
out number. 

Vol, XL D 



30 

Wor. Well, though you have often told us what 
a painful dismissal this was to you, when you were 
compelled to leave a congregation so seriously im- 
pressed, and being also the first fruits of your minis- 
try ; yet it proved a happy event for us. ^ 

Loveg. Sir, God's ways are not as our ways. 
What man designs as evil, God frequently over-rules 
for good ; and I bless his name, I was not sent there 
but for gracious purposes. For after I had been in 
my curacy about three years, I thought it a call in 
providence, that I should marry the sister of one of 
the young men who visited me, and who was a cre- 
ditable farmer's daughter, having a small freehold of 
his own ; so that I got in the parish of Abley, two of 
the greatest blessings in life, a good wife, and the 
knowledge of the gospel. 

Merrym. It is a great mercy when we can leave 
all things in the hands of God ; " he doeth all things 
well." 

Loveg. In many instances, I found this to be the 
case ; for being thus dismissed from my curacy, the 
pity of many was excited towards me ; though from 
that hour to this, I never could discover who it was 
that represented my case to the notice of the Chan- 
cellor, when I received the presentation to the vica- 
rage of this parish. All that I know is, that a short 
letter was sent, asking me the question^ that as the 
Chancellor had heard of my character and situation, 
he wished to know if the living of Lower Brookfield 
would be worth my acceptance. I was happy im- 
mediately to embrace the kind offer. Our first 
child was born about three weeks before this event 
took place; and just when we began to harbour 
unbelieving fears about how we could subsit upon 
our scanty income, this merciful event in providence 
took place. 



"31 

ffior. Alas, Sir, the living of Brookfield it still but 
a scanty maintenance for yourself and family. 

Loveg. Why, Sir, my curacy was but fifty pounds 
a year, so that the living of this parish has above 
doubled my income, besides the privilege of being 
independent in the discharge of my duty, which was 
never the case while I was curate of Abley. My rec- 
tor was always saying, that I was feeding my own 
vanity, in affecting to be more abundant and zealous 
than others ; and as this sort of conduct indirectly re- 
flected upon the rest of the clergy, who were con- 
tented to do no more than what was regularly expect- 
ed from them, he could by no means allow his curate 
to do more than others. 

Merry m. Ah, Sir, it would have been well for me, 
if m£ living had been no better than yours ; but as it 
is, I suppose, "above three times the value, I found 
myself quite at liberty to run after that which I liked 
best. Thus, from the income of my living, which I 
received for spiritual purposes, I could procure for 
myself all that my carnal heart would wish to enjoy. 

Wor. Weil, Sir, you now know the worth of the 
gospel since you have felt its power ; and when our 
hearts are converted to God, we shall dedicate our 
property to his glory. 

Mrs. Wor. But, Mr. Merryman, you have told us 
enough of the worst part of your story, but nothing 
of the best. 

Merry m. Why madam, there has been with me 
so much of the bad, and so little of the good, that I 
am sorry to say you will soon hear all I have got to 
advance on that subject. 

Mrs. JVor. Had you then no serious impressions 
before you heard our minister at the visitation ? 

Merrym. Madam, till that time, I was acting as 
the vainest puppy that ever lived ; always affecting 
the easy air of the conceited gentleman, and as 






/ 



. 



much ashamed of my professional character as I well 
could be; yet I by no means found myself happy in 
my light and frothy state of mind. 

Loveg. No wonder that you were ashamed of yoiar 
professional character, while you acted as you did. 

Merrym. Yes, but while I was engaged in my of- 
fice, many a stinging conviction was brought home to 
my mind : for while I was reading the prayers, and 
acknowledging sin in language in itself so humble and 
just, saying that " I had done those things which I 
ought not to have done, and that I had left undone 
those things which I ought to have done, and that 
there was no health in me ; " and that " God would not 
despise the sighings of a contrite heart, or the desires 
ojF such as are sorrowful : " I used to think what pro- 
fane mockery and hypocrisy it all was ; how I was 
ashamed of myself, when I considered what people 
must think of me, while I was reading such prayers, 
and leading such a life ! — But in nothing was I more 
disgusted with myself, than by the frequent petitions 
I was obliged to make use of for the grace, and influ- 
ence, and inspiration of God's Holy Spirit ; especial- 
ly while I used to her many of the clergy, who were 
no better than myself, ridicule every idea of divine 
influences ; and when I also had in the bundle of my 
sermons that I had either bought, borrowed, or beg- 
ged, three that were designed to expose such preten- 
sions to divine operations as being* nothing better 
than downright enthusiasm. In short, Sir, I could 
neither bear my office, nor bear myself on account of 
my office : and no one can tell what I used to feel 
when I was under the necessity of administering the 
sacrament. When I had to repeat these words, " the 
remembrance of our sins is grievous unto us, and the 
burden of them is intolerable ; " my conscience would 
tell me that I was uttering before God an intolerable 
lie, and was about to take the sacrament with this 
abominable lie in my mouth. Then ag^in I was for- 



~33 

cibly struck after the administration, while I was re- 
peating these words ; " And here we offer and pre- 
sent unto thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls^ and bo- 
dies, to be a reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice 
unto thee ;" that directly after I had been receiving 
the sacrament, I repeated the crime by mocking God 
with another lie ; for that I knew in my conscience, 
I had no design whatever to devote myself to the 
glory of God, but to continue the same loose, wild 
way of living as before. 

JLoveg. Had you many who came to the sacra- 
ment? 

Merry m. Very few, Sir ; very few indeed : and 
when I used to see some of these grave old people 
come with their Week's Preparation books, I won- 
dered what they could think of me, who had been 
running after all the vain amusements within my 
reach throughout all the week ; if they had any reflec- 
tion, what must they think of me t but that I was a 
mere hireling and a wolf? 

Loveg. How 7 did you use to feel when you were 
called to visit the sick ? 

Merry m. Ah, Sir, it was but seldom that the peo- 
ple thought it worth their while to send ^fter such a 
giddy, dissipated youth as I th^n was. On these oc- 
casions they naturally concluded, that prayers, mere- 
ly said from the lips of such a light frothy chap, could 
be of little avail in the solemn moments of their disso- 
lution. But whenever I had an office of that sort to 
perform, no one can tell how I abhorred the task. 
However, I used to take out my little black service- 
book, read a few prayers over as fast as I could, and 
then off again to my sports. I remember once I had 
the misfortune to be called to this office from the card- 
table ; i accordingly put the deal in my pocket, and 
went to my hated task ; and while I was taking out 
my book and my handkerchief, all over perfume, to; 






34* 

prevent the offensive smell of a sick chamber, (for I 
had a deal of affected delicacy about me,) I whisk'd 
out all the cards, while the nurse had to pick\hem 
up again — and then I went to my devotions ! 

JVor. It is a great mercy, that the wickedness and 
enmity of your heart did not prevent your giving a 
serious hearing to Mr. Lovcgood, w T hen he preached 
the visitation sermon. 

Merrym. Sir, in all my levity and wickedness, 
while I could join with others in skits and jokes 
against real religion, yet I had a sort of secret respect 
fbr those who were truly serious and consistent : I 
was convinced their characters were preferable to 
mine. My principal mischief arose from a light and 
trifling and frothy spirit, by which I was entirely 
captivated, till my heart, I trust, was instructed to 
know somewhat of the grace of God in truth. 

Loveg. Well, I bless God, being of a more stu- 
dious turn of mind I was kept from the same ex- 
cess of vanity ; nor could I bear the company of the 
more dissolute of the rest of our body^ but, if more 
decent, I was not less ignorant of the way of salva- 
tion revealed in the Bible, than yourself; and in our 
neighbourhood there lived another clergyman, known 
by the name of Mr. Soberman, who was very correct 
and chaste in the whole of his deportment : we still 
keep up a very friendly intercourse with each other ; 
tiiough he always told me I had gone too far. I am 
satisfied of this ; we should ever speak well of good 
wherever we find it ; and I should be happy if, in every 
country and in every line of life, men of such cha- 
racters were more universally to be found. It would 
be horrid indeed, if all the clergy were equally dis- 
solute and profane. 

Merrym. O, sir, it fell to my lot to be acquainted 
with a sad sample of the worst men of every cha- 
racter ! Some of these were professed libertine Deists, 
and among the clergy themselves I found some De« 



ists in disguise- But what can be expected from the 
church under present circumstances ? You know, sir, 
at the time of our public ordinations, near the Uni- 
versities, what scenes are exhibited, when a set of 
such thoughtless youths take upon them this most 
sacred office. If the world knew half our tricks, 
how they would hate us for our hypocrisy ! 

Wor. I confess, all who truly love the church can- 
not but lament how ill she is served- But what was 
it that so impressed your mind while you heard Mr. 
Lovegood preach his visitation sermon ? 

Merrym. Why, sir, when we heard that Mr. 
Lovegood was to be the preacher, as we had been 
informed of his character before, we were all atten- 
tion, some out of envy, and others out of curiosity, 
and a few perhaps out of good will ; but as I so 
hated myself on account of my office, I thought I 
had no right to blame others, whose lives were more 
consistent than my own. So that, I confess, I at- 
tended not only without any prejudice, but rather 
with a strong prepossession upon my mind, that I 
should hear somewhat well worthy of my attention. 

Loveg. ( To Mr. Worthy) Sir, as we have done 
tea, if I am to be made the subject of conversation, 
I shall withdraw and desire Edward to take away his 
tea equipage, and sit a little while with poor Mrs. 
Chipman. I wish to put these few sheets into her 
hands \lie reads the title page] " The Tempestuous 
Soul calmed by Jesus Christ." 

Mr. Lovegoodhaving thus withdrawn, the present 
dialogue shall be concluded, that the reader's atten- 
tion may have time to rest before he hears more of 
Mr. Merry man, and of the gracious influences of the 
gospel, which wrought so wonderfully on his mind, 
and which produced such pleasing consequences on 
his ministry and on the whole of his life and conver- 
sation. 



36 



DIALOGUE XIX. 



THE SECOND PART OF THE SAME DIALOGUE 
CONTINUED. 

WITH 

THE CHARACTER OF THREE SORTS OF MINISTERS, RE- 
PRESENTED IN CONTRAST WITH EACH OTHER. 

BEFORE Mr. Merryman favours us with a far- 
ther narration on the subject of his experience, 
perhaps it might not be unacceptable to my readers, 
were they to be advertised, that there were two 
other ministers in the same neighbourhood, nearly of 
the same name as Mr. Slapdash, before-mentioned, 
Mr. Slopdash, and Mr. Taplash. The character of 
Mr. Slapdash has sufficiently appeared from the 
former dialogue. Mr. Slopdash would frequently 
boast that he was of the same family with Mr. Slap- 
dash ; but, by all accounts, the relationship was very 
distant indeed. It is charitably to be hoped that Mr. 
Slopdash was a good man. But while Mr. Slapdash 
had a mind warm and animated, the other was ve- 
hement and rash, and would often insult his hearers 
with gross personal reflections, which were too fre- 
quently administered with great indiscretion ; and 
this he called faithfulness. Mr. Slapdash could also 
give hard slaps when needed ; . but, in general, they 
were administered with discretion; and if at any 
time, through the natural rapidity of his constitu- 
tion, he failed, yet being possessed of the "-meek- 
ness and gentleness that was in Christ/' his mistakes 
were soon corrected. 



37, 

Mr. Slopdash had a mind that was naturally low, 
vulgar, and coarse. The sentiments of Mr. Slap- 
dash, on the contrary, were elevated and pure. If 
ever he descended, it was like the 'swallow, just to 
dip the tip of his wings in the stream, and again 
ascend. But Mr. Slopdash was quite the duck ; he 
could go down into the filthy kennel of human cor- 
ruption, and turn it up from the very bottom, and 
then glory in his performance* Mr. Slapdash, after 
he had taken his text, would for a while stick to it, 
and give it a very just and correct interpretation ; 
though, afterwards, from the warm and animated 
frame of his mind, he would branch out, yet so as 
to surprise his hearers, by a brilliancy of thought 
peculiar to himself. His severer hearers would 
blame him for these eccentricities, and call him a 
rambling preacher; though still he was correct in his 
divinity, and well intentioned in his design ; and in 
all his ramblings he was still sure to keep upon holy 
ground. 

Mr. Slopdash, on the contrary, when he had taken 
2 text, would not so much consider its sense, as its 
sound; and would conceive himself wonderfully 
clever if he could hit upon a meaning, the most pre- 
posterous and absurd, by way of explaining a passage 
the most perspicuous and plain. He once vociferated 
for an hour on this text : " Behold, says Pharaoh's 
baker, I had three white baskets on my head." 
Gen. xl. 16. and from hence he proved the doctrine 
of the Trinity, whereby he astonished his auditory 
not a little, and pleased them hugely ; for they never 
heard before, that the three baskets meant the three 
person^ in the Trinity. 

He also proved nearly the same doctrine from the 
history of Esther ; that Ahasuerus was God the Fa- 
ther, that Mordecai was God the Son, that Esther 
was the Church, and that Human was the devil. As 



38 

to myself, I rather doubt the justice of sthe interpre- 
tation ; for, if we abide by it, that the devir was 
hung, upwards of two thousand three hundred years 
ago (though he certainly deserved it), it is impossible 
to suppose, that such a wonderful deal of mischief 
could have been done by a dead devil ever since. 
It is, however, charitably to be concluded, that the 
defects of Mr. Slopdash were not in his heart, but 
in his head. His brains were unfortunately very ill 
screwed together, though had they been screwed 
too close, certainly many of his floating ideas would 
have been terribly cramped; but, as it happened, 
matters with him were in a very contrary extreme, 
many of the screws in his brains being remarkably 
loose. No wonder, therefore, that this shatter- 
brained divine should, by the rattling and lax state 
of his tongue, evidence so strongly, the loose state 
of his brains. Mr. Siopdash was driven, with others 
of the same mind, into this wild way of interpret- 
ing the Scriptures, not only in the above instances, 
but in a variety of others, equally as absurd, from 
having admitted too slight notions of the necessity 
of the practical and preceptive part of the Word of 
God. Hence -he had almost run into the abominable 
idea, urged by some Ranters of late and modern 
times ; that " the law is no rule of life to a believer : ?? 
but his mind was not altogether so vitiated, as to 
admit a doctrine, so grossly blasphemous, against 
the holiness of God. 

There was another Mr. Slopdash, however, not far 
distant, equally as ignorant, but of a much worse 
disposition: with him neither Mr. Lovegood nor 
Mr. Merry man could keep up the least possible con- 
nexion, as his doctrine had, at all times, a secret 
tendency to prove his hatred to holiness ; and his life 
was no better than his doctrine. This, therefore, 
rendered him a very dangerous .preacher \ while 



39 

many were found, who, being as Ignorant as himself, 
were eager to swallow down his insulting dogmas, 
as if they were consistent with those pure and holy 
truths which are revealed in the Word of God. 

He once exemplified his horrid art, in thus per- 
verting the Scriptures, while he made a preachment 
from these words; " Before the cock crow, thou 
shait deny me thrice.' 5 He actually misconstrued 
this holy word of caution, or rather prophecy, given 
by our Lord to his presumptuous disciple. Peter, 
into an express command, " Thou shalt deny me;" 
and thus proved that the law c6uld not be a rule of N 
life to a believer. 

I was told also, on another occasion, he exhibited 
on this text: " It is better to dwell in a corner of 
the house top, than with a brawling woman in a 
wide house." First, he insisted upon it, that the 
Proverbs are not to be considered in a moral, but a 
gospel point of view. That the brawling woman, 
was the Law ; and that dwelling in the corner of 
the house, meant being shut up in the Church, and 
there the Law could not brawl at us, as all in the 
Church were in a justified state : but in regard to 
those who were living in the wide house, these repre- 
sented such as were living in the wide house of the 
world, and they would hear the braxv lings of the 
law, scolding them for their wickedness. So that 
this Mr. Slopdash had no idea of the w iekedness he 
was guilty of, in giving such a view of the just and 
holy law, by comparing its most righteous sentence, 
against our unrighteousness, to the brawling of an 
angry woman. 

If I have not already exhausted the reader's pa- 
tience, he shall have some further evidence how this 
man could pervert the wise book of Proverbs, into 
language the most preposterous and absurd. " He 
that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man : he that 



40 

loveth wiiie and oil shall not be rich.'' Having 
thrown aside the common-sense interpretation of 
the passage, as directing us to avoid the love of 
sinful pleasure, he insisted upon it, that the plea- 
sure here meant was the pleasure of true godliness, 
and that the wine and oil" meant the spiritual bless- 
ings of the gospel : "he shall be a poor man" he ex- 
pounded as meaning " poor in spirit ;" not rich 
in his own esteem* After the same wild and fool- 
ish way, he interpreted what Solomon says of the 
four things that disquiet the earth : "A servant 
when he reigneth ;" that is, said he, when we who 
once were the servants of sin, reign with Christ: 
" A fool when he is filled with meat," that he inter- 
preted, as meaning, when we " fools becauseof trans- 
gression," are filled with heavenly food* Perhaps it 
would have suited as well, had he said, that it meant 
himself, when his gaping admirers gave him a good 
dinner for talking nonsense. " An odious woman, 
when she is married," he says, was designed to repre- 
sent the marriage of the odious sinner to Christ ; 
and " A hand-maid, when she is heir to her mistress," 
was to mean how we sinners are made heirs of God, 
and joint heirs with Christ ! ! ! I am satisfied, after all 
these instances, from the abovesaid Mr. Slopdash, 
respecting his method of interpreting the Scriptures, 
he will be quite contented if I suppress others, some 
of them being even indecent, and all of them as 
absurd and. preposterous as any of the former* And 
indeed the other Mr. Slopdash, who w r as known to 
Mr. Lovegood, tired his patience till it was quite 
exhausted; while Mr. Merryman, for a longtime, 
attempted to convince him of the impropriety and 
absurdity of such interpretations of Scripture. But 
as there is a certain degree of pride and posiavity 
belonging to the whole of the tribe, ail Mr. Merry- 
man got, was the pity of Mr. Slopdash, who always 
conceited his own ignorance was superlative wisdom, 



41 

and that the wisdom of others was to be accounted 
their ignorance. 

Through the sides of Mr. Slopdash, however, the 
Rev. Mr. Taplash, minister of a little, gay, gossiping 
town, in that neighbourhood, called Clack, would 
make his most vehement attacks against Mr. Slap- 
dash ; and, indeed, against every other minister, 
who with unaffected simplicity, and godly sincerity, 
preached the Gospel to the consciences of his hear- 
ers. These he would charge as being all alike, sup- 
posing that the follies of some were equally im- 
putable to all ; and though he was a man of no 
great consequence or worth, but in his own esteem ; 
yet w 7 here truths are naturally disliked, any sort of a 
witness will be readily admitted against them. 

Elegance of composition, and a genteel delivery, 
were all that Mr. Taplash could admire, which he 
thought were wonderfully accomplished in himself, 
while he wats dealing, with all possible affectation, 
his flimsy, frippery, unsentimental harangues, as a 
very acceptable treat, to those who could be gratified 
wdth empty sounds, and a mere parade of words. 

The orator, when he first made his appearance, 
would be primmed and dressed up in the most finished 
style ; not a hair would be found out of place on his 
empty pate, on which the barber had been exercising 
his occupation all the Sunday morning, and powder- 
ed till as white as the driven snow. Thus elegantly 
decorated, and smelling like a civet-cat, through an 
abundance of perfumery, he would scent the air as 
he passed. Then, with a most conceited skip, he 
would step into the pulpit, as though stepping out 
of a band-box ; and here he had not only to display 
his elegant production, but his elegant self also ; 
his delicate white hand, exhibiting his diamond ring, 
while his richly-scented white handkerchief was un- 
furled, and managed with remarkable dexteritv and 

Vol. II. E 



42 

art. His smelling-bottle was rfext occasionally pre- 
sented to his nose, giving different opportunities to 
display his sparkling ring. Thus having adjusted 
the important business of the handkerchief, and the 
smelling-bottle, he had next to take out his glass, 
that he might reconnoitre the fair part of his audi- 
tory, with whom he might have been gallanting, 
and entertaining with his cheap talk, the day before; 
and these, as soon as he could catch their eye, he 
would favour with a simpering look and a graceful 
nod. 

Then as to his devotions : these were performed in 
a remarkably gentleman-like manner; though the best 
of it was, that they were no sooner begun than they 
were ended : the same also may be said of his ser- 
mons, they were special short; fifteen minutes, being 
the full length of the sermon of a fashionable divine, 
he never exceeded. While the ingredients of all 
his compositions seemed to be nothing better than 
flimsy declamations, and religious compliments, 
he would be talking of " the reward we were to 
receive, from the fair hand of our own virtuous con- 
duct, which, at a very easy rate, we might secure to 
ourselves, as our religion by no means secluded us 
from innocent amusements;" doubtless referring to 
the card-table, tlie ball-room, and the theatre, 
u which we were all permitted to enjoy, in order 
that we might return to the service of our Maker 
with a greater relish and delight ;" and it is reported, 
that he once actually composed a prayer for a reli- 
gious young lady, on her confirmation, after she had 
discharged her godfathers and godmothers from that 
vow on her behalf; " to renounce the pomps and 
vanities of this wicked world, and all the sinful lusts 
of the flesh!" 

Mr. Taplash, would also, at times, adorn his ha- 
rangues with scraps of poetry, principally culled out 



of Shakespear's plays ; and at one time, after a very 
tasty specimen of his elocution, in which he had been 
displaying the rich repast conscious virtue brought 
home to the pious mind, he thus concluded, with 
the following verse out of Thomson : 

m Come, then, expressive silence, muse her praise." 

The orator stood as all astonished at the excellency 
of his own harangue : gave a very elegant congee to 
his auditory, and then most gracefully sat down. 

A text of Scripture, or even the name of Christ, 
could scarcely ever find admission into the sermons 
of Mr. Taplash. In one of his fine moral harangues, 
descanting upon the beauties of virtue, and the ex- 
cellencies of a virtuous life, he thus addressed his 
auditory, in a sentiment he had gathered from an 
heathen orator: " Virtue, thou fairest of names, 
w r hose enchanting power can sooth even the savage 
breast! Virtue, I say, couldst thou come down 
dressed in human shape, and in all thy beauteous 
array, surely thy godlike appearance would win the 
foulest heart, and all the world would at once adore 
thee as a goddess supremely blessed ; and in them- 
selves, also, not less supremely blessed, w r hen graced 
with the influences of thy most tender and transport- 
ing charms. O ! thou goddess, divinely glorious, 
descend, and let us see thy lovely features, that we 
may all adore !" 

At once the buzz of universal applause was heard 
throughout the congregation, as most grateful in- 
cense, offered up to feast the pride and vanity of the 
preacher. But soon afterwards, this very fine speech, 
so very finely delivered, happened to meet with a 
terrible mishap ; for a gentleman of property asked 
Mr. Taplash, to lend his pulpit to old Mr. Blunt, a 
worthy clergyman in that neighbourhood, which he 
could not well refuse, though much against the grain. 



44 » 

He having been informed of this fine speech, quoted 
it almost verbatim as it was delivered ; then added, 
" Virtue did once descend in human form, dressed in 
the person of God our holy Redeemer, and adorned 
in the perfection of excellence. And did the world 
admire him for the beauties of his holiness, or adore 
him for his lovely charms ? Just the reverse ; was 
he not hated because he was lovely ? and was not the 
cry against him, crucify him, crucify him ? and $id 
they cease their vindictive cry, till they had put him 
to death, even the ignominious death of the cross ? 55 
Never was Mr. Taplash's smelling-bottle so much 
needed as upon this occasion ; and he used it very 
plentifully, while his pretty countenance at once red- 
dened like the rose ; nor could the auditory tell what 
they should think of themselves, that they could 
be so led away by the weak harangues of Mr. Tap- 
lash, which w r ere so easily refuted by the sound sense 
of Mr. Blunt. 

If ever Mr. Taplash appeared a little more than 
commonly warmed and animated, it was when he 
was preaching against fanatics and modern enthu- 
siasts. On these occasions, he would be always de- 
scanting on the powers of reason, whom he would 
dress up as another of his goddesses ; that the Al- 
mighty had given her sufficient powers for the re- 
formation of mankind ; or if she should fail, con- 
science would be called in to lend her aid, whom he 
would call " the sacred monitor of the Deity — the 
vicegerent of the Almighty in the human bosoni — the 
mirror of merit, from whence we receive the con- 
scious reward of every virtuous action." Such would 
be some of his fulsome compliments to the corrupted 
heart of man ; and such was the style of this wretched 
fribble in a cassock. 

And now the reader shall be left to determine 
whether of the two is the more disgusting ; the ig- 



4c 



norance and vulgarity of Mr. Slopdash, or the con- 
ceitedness, pedantry, and puppyism of the genteel 
and elegant Mr. Taplash. Having thus represented 
these great characters before the reader, the dialogue 
shall be now continued. 



Worthy. Well, Mr. Merryman, as Mr. Love- 
good is withdrawn, you may speak with the more 
freedom ; how that good man hates praise, though 
no person upon earth so well deserves it ! 

Merryman. Why, Sir, the very style in which, he 
mentioned his text, struck me not a little. You 
know in what a grave and solemn manner he alwavs 
reads the word of God. Iremember the text, " Watch 
thou in all things ; do the work of an evangelist ; 
make full proof of thy ministry." On that occasion, 
he wisely judged it might be most advisable to read 
his sermon ; though I always like him best when 
he preaches from the fulness of his own heart ; 
but he knew that extempore sermons are sure to give 
offence to the clergy, especially in their present state. 
That sermon he afterwards lent me for my private 
perusal ; and what a sermon it was ! What a con- 
trast he displayed between the carnal ministers of the 
world, who neither know their Lord's voice, nor seek 
to know it, and the spiritual and faithful ministers of 
the gospel, as delineated in the word of God ! 

Worthy. Directly as i began to read my Bible, I 
was at once convinced, that the spirit and temper of 
real Christianity were as opposite to the spirit of the 
world as light is to darkness. And when that poor 
dissipated. creature, Lord Rakish, gave me a call one 
morning, and happened to find Mr. Lovegocd with 
me, I remember his grand objection against the Bi- 
ble was ; that it was impossible for human, nature to 

• E 2 



46 

come up to it. I well recollect Mr. Lovegood's 
admirable answer : " So your lordship settles the mat- 
ter, not by force of argument, but from what you feel 
in yourself; the Bible must be wrong because yon feel 
wrong," Immediately, Lord Rakish, said " Why 
don't you think I should like to believe the Bible, if 
I could, as well as yourself" ? Mr. Lovegood directly 
answered, " Pardon me, my Lord, if I deny it; you, 
and thousands more beside, love sin too well to be- 
lieve the Bible." 

Merryman. What an excellent remark \ But this 
was nearly the same application he made in his visita- 
tion sermon. That it was utterly impossible the 
carnal world could love the holiness and spirituality 
which existed in the real Christian ; as by the whole 
tenor of his conduct, he appeared a living witness 
against them who have a name to live and are dead ; 
while all Christ's real disciples are not of the world, 
for that God hath chosen them out of the world, 
therefore the world hateth them. That conse- 
quently, as far as the real ministers of Christ follow 
the example of their holy Master, in life, and doc- 
trine, they also must suffer the reproach of the 
world with their suffering Redeemer. And that, 
therefore, his disciples positively declared, " that 
all they who live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer 
persecution;" and that " living godly in Christ Je- 
sus >" would ever draw down odium and persecu- 
tion, at least of the tongue, (however, through divine 
providence, religion was established and protected 
by law,) where its real influences were not established 
in the heart ; and that we should find it so, if we 
made full proof of our ministry, or attended accord- 
ing to the directions given in the ordination office. 
u To be messengers, watchmen, and stewards of 
the Lord ; to teach and premonish, to feed and 
provide for the Lord's family ; to seek Christ's 



47 

sheep who are dispersed abroad ; and for his chik 
dren, who are in the midst of this naughty world, 
that they may be saved through Christ for ever : " and 
after he had given a large quotation from that most 
excellent exhortation, I well remember the con- 
temptuous sneer that passed between Mr. Spiteful 
and old rector Guzzle on that occasion. 

Worthy. No wonder at their sneers. We all know 
the spirit and temper of Mr. Spiteful : and as for 
rector Guzzle, I never heard him famed for any 
thing, but that he w r as the greatest eater and hardest 
drinker of any man about the country. But I thought 
after I had read the sermon, Mr. Lovegood was the 
most striking on that passage, " Do the work of an 
evangelist." 

Merryman. Indeed, sir, I had no conception at 
first, that there could be any other evangelists than 
the writers of the four Gospels. 

Worthy. But he gave us all to understand, that 
the work of an evangelist was to spread the Gospel. 
And in what a full and concise manner he described 
the leading sentiments of the Gospel preacher ! 

Merryman. I remember well his weighty obser- 
vations on the importance of the ministrj^ ; and I felt 
every word as against myself, for my presumption 
and wickedness, in taking upon me such an office, 
and from such motives, while I was so perfectly care- 
less ; living like a downright heathen, and yet daring 
to assume the character of the minister of Christ. 
What strong expressions he made use of, when cal- 
culating the infinite value of but one immortal Spi- 
rit ! That " all the vast revolutions of kingdoms and 
empires were but for a time ; the wide-extended 
splendor of the greatest of them, as once they ex- 
isted, is now no more : not so the soul of the meanest 
individual : being of infinite duration, it is of infinite 
worth:" urging from this, that our doctrine should 



48 

be the most pure, our example the most holy, and 
our diligence the most assiduous and persevering, 

Worthy* Do you recollect how he urged that part 
of the text, " Watch thou in all things ?" 

Merry man. Yes, I recollect enough to have cor- 
vinced me, and many others, if they could have at- 
tended to it, that our careless lives, and sacred office, 
were the greatest contradiction to each other, and 
in entire opposition to the word of God, which di- 
rects us to " be instant in season, and out of sea- 
" son; to make full proof of our ministry; 55 in 
short, " to spend and be spent for Jesus Christ; 55 
while, at the same time, the negligence of the gene- 
rality of us was so evident and notorious. But what 
striking observations he made on those words, " En- 
dure afflictions ! 55 He at once met the objection he 
supposed would be made, that this part of the text 
must be confined to primitive times only; and that 
now the profession of Christianity, since its esta- 
blishment, was " attended with ease and honour*. 55 
But I remember with what solemnity he asked the 
question, " Is the carnal mind otherwise now, than 
it was then, — Enmity against God ? Could age cure 
the diseases of the human heart, which is described 
as being deceitful above all things, and desperately 
wicked? No wonder, therefore, if in every age we 
exemplified, the justice of the charge, that we are 
haters of God,; and v. hat could be expectedfrom such, 
but that they should be haters of the godly ? He 
further, I remember, pressed the point, by first quot- 
ing the beatitudes, as in the fifth of Matthew ; ob- 

* An expression of the late Bishop Warburton, when in the exertion 
of his zeal against modern e?itbusiastsl Though a Bishop of a church 
which so repeatedly insists on divine influences, yet like many others, he 
entirely denied all divine influences whatever ; thus he completely reduced 
Christianity to a system of deism, or of natural religion, as it is called;, 
while he pretended to vindicate her sacred cause. 



49 

serving what a fine epitome it was of the mind of 
Christ, as it dwells in the heart of every true believer. 
That the real Christian was poor in spirit ; and that 
such only are of the kingdom of heaven: that he 
was a holy mourner, under a sense of sin ; and that 
such alone should be comforted : that he is found ^ 
among the meek ; and that these only inherit earth 
and heaven too : that they hungered and thirsted 
after righteousness, or rather a holy conformity to 
the will of God : that he was merciful ; and therefore 
should obtain mercy : that he was pure in heart ; 
therefore should see God : that he was a peace- 
maker, and therefore should be numbered among the 
children of God. He then made the comparison 
between the high spirituality which belongs to the 
real disciples of Christ, and the poor cold morality 
so much talked of, though, after all, so little prac^ 
tised among the people of the world. Then he 
mentioned a variety of passages of the same import, 
and concluded with this text : " Whatsoever ye do 
in word and deed, do all in the name of the Lord Je- 
sus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him." 
Merryman. Till that hour, I never had the most 
distant conception, what was meant by the Gospel, or 
a Gospel preacher, any more than the horse I rode on 
to the visitation. But I am sure all that he spoke was 
true respecting the impurity and unholiness of man- 
kind in general, and, indeed, of all as in a state of 
nature. A deal too much have I already seen, 
though yet so young ; and I have had proof enough, 
what the Bible says is true, " that the whole world 
Jieth in the wicked one." Almost all I have ever 
met with, have been nearly of the same stamp, fol- 
lowing what their corrupted hearts evidently liked 
best ; " the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, 
and the pride of life." I am sure all these were my 
delights till I heard Mr. LovegoocL 



50 

Worthy. But I remember, he as admirably shewed 
how the evangelist, or e% 7 angelical minister, had also 
to expatiate on the glories of the Gospel, as mani- 
fested in our redemption by the blood of Christ, 
our acceptance in his righteousness, and the sancti- 
fication of our natures, by the operation of the Di- 
vine Spirit. I think our excellent friend crowded too 
many ideas into the same subject ; but, no wonder, 
as it was most evidently his design to take that op- 
portunity to give the most comprehensive view of 
matters in his power. What he delivered, con- 
tained sufficient substance for many a large volume. 

Merryman. I really was no critic, while he was 
pouring down the substance of such volumes of di- 
vinity on my poor ignorant head and wicked heart ; 
yet nothing so astonished me as my ignorance, ex- 
cept my presumption, while he took the opportu- 
nity, during the course of his sermon, to quote a 
variety of awful passages against such a set of faith- 
less hirelings. He produced several of them from 
the 34th of Ezekiel, which I never forgot from that 
hour to this. " Woe be to the shepherds of Israel, 
that feed themselves. Should not the shepherds 
feed the flock ? The diseased have ye not strength- 
ened. Neither have ye healed that which was sick ; 
neither have ye bound up that which was broken ; 
neither have ye brought again that Which was driven 
away ; neither have ye sought that which was lost ; 
but with force and with cruelty have ye ruled them ; 
and they were scattered because there is no shep- 
herd, and they became meat for all the beasts of the 
field, when they were scattered and none did search 
and seek after them. Therefore thus saith the 
Lord God, behold, I am against the shepherds, and 
will require my flock at their hands, and cause them 
to cease from feeding the flock; neither shall the 
shepherds feed themselves any more, for I will deli- 



51 



ver my flock from their mouth, that they may not 
be meat for them.' 5 I remember, at the same time, 
he introduced another passage from the same Pro- 
phet, as belonging to the watchmen of Israel: 
" When I say to the wicked, thou shalt surely die, 
and thou givest him not warning, nor speakest to 
warn the wicked from his wicked way, to save his 
life ; the same wicked man shall die in his iniquity, 
but his blood will I require at thine hand." 

Worthy, Yes, and there is another passage, which 
I remember to have read in his sermon, and which 
he quoted from Isaiah. " His watchmen are blind; 
they are all ignorant, they are all dumb dogs, they 
cannot bark ; sleeping, lying down, loving to slum- 
fc ber. Yea, they are greedy dogs, which can never 
have enough : and they are shepherds that cannot 
understand ; they all look to their own way, every 
one for his own gain from his quarter." 

Merry man. Yes, and I remember how he set forth 
at the same time, the dreadful words pronounced by 
our Lord against the Scribes and Pharisees, the false 
teachers of the day, and against all such " evil men 
and seducers, who are sure to wax worse and worse; " 
and who run counter to the express command of 
God. " We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus 
the Lord, and ourselves, your servants, for Jesus's 
sake." And I well remember what solemn counte- 
nances appeared among the laity, though afterwards 
he was so plentifully reprobated among the clergy, 
for having exposed them in such a manner before all 
the people. 

Worthy. He expose them ! It had never been in 
the power of Mr. Lovegood, or any one else, to have 
exposed the clergy by such expressions, if they did 
not expose themselves by their improper conduct. 
It was, however, enough to make the ears of them 
that heard it to tingle. 



Mcrryman. But the observations he made on the 
last clause of his text, struck me, if possible, more 
forcibly than any of the fQrmer. Cannot you re- 
member, Sir, the weighty remarks which he made 
on that passage in the text, " make full proof of thy 
ministry;" how admirably he described the important 
duties of the ministerial office, and that we were 
commanded to " give ourselves wholly to it, that 
our profiting might appear unto all men." Then 
he asked how the man of fashion, as it is called, who 
was only known to be a minister, by the colour of 
his coat ; the covetous, the voluptuous, the negli- 
gent, and the proud, could dare to register them- 
selves among the ministers of a crucified Redeemer, 
And that when it was the bounden duty of every 
private Christian, u to give all diligence to make 
his calling and election sure," and even " to work 
out his salvation^ with fear and trembling," what 
must the people think, when they see these minis- 
ters, so much the reverse of what they themselves 
are commanded to be, according to the common 
standard of Christianity ?" Then he quoted that 
passage from St. Peter, " Ye are a chosen genera- 
tion, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar 
people ; that ye should shew forth the praises of him 
who hath called you out of darkness into his mar- 
vellous light." 1 think I now see him, as he was 
then in the pulpit ; he stopped, and made a solemn 
pause, then added : " Holy brethren, such we are in 
office, and such we .should be before God and man ; 
what manner of persons ought we then to be, in all 
holy conversation and godliness," to be the leaders 
and instructors of a people so sacred in themselves, 
and so highly devoted to God." 

Worthy. I don't remember reading that passage in 
the sermon ; but he told me, while he was delivering 
it, some texts from the Scriptures struck him so for- 



, 53 

cibly, that he introduced them, and gave a short com- 
ment upon them ; and this made him preach a quar- 
ter of an hour longer than he designed. 

Merrym. Yes, I heard enough of the length of his 
sermon, though I bless God it was not long to me. 
The whole of it was but j ust an hour. But the ridicule 
of almost all the clergy, both as it respects the length 
of his sermon, and the holy warmth with which it 
was delivered, shocked me exceedingly. 

Wor. Ah, sir, had they been at a play-house 
instead of a church, neither the length of the play, 
nor the pathos of the actors, had given them the least 
offence. The actor is allowed to represent imaginary 
things, as though they were real ; while the minister 
of the truths of God, is to be stigmatized as a mad- 
man unless he represents real things as though they 
were imaginary. 

Merrym. Well, sir, and I don't suppose you thought 
your worthy minister to blame, in going a little be- 
yond the limits he designed, in making some addi- 
tions to the written sermon he composed for the 
visitation. For though I admire the tenderness of 
his mind not to give offence, when it possibly could 
"be avoided, by writing his sermon, as the truths he 
then delivered would be deemed sufficiently offensive 
among those who heard them ; yet I cannot conceive 
Avhy speaking extempore from the pulpit, should give 
more offence than at the bar, or in the senate, or in 
any other public assembly. ' 

Wor. If, indeed, it be required of a minister, 
that he should be " apt to teach," why should we 
not expect a feast as much from a public pleader in 
the cause of religion, as a public pleader at the bar ? 
The offence, therefore, taken at what is called ex- 
tempore preaching, I suppose is principally found 
to be among those who are exposed thereby, for un- 
dertaking an office thev are so ill qualified to fill ; 

Vol. II. F 



54 

though I would speak with caution, as I by~rio 
means suppose, that every minister is altogether un- 
fit for his office, who cannot speak extempore, 

Merrym, Weil, I found I was in a measure obli- 
ged to commence an extempore preacher, before 
ever I designed it ; for as soon as I became serious,* 
none of my old sermons would do for me any lon- 
ger ; nor were there any to be bought that would 
suit my taste now : and my mind was so occupied, 
after hearing Mr. Lovegood, that I was quite unfit 
to sit down to compose any thing like a regular ser- 
mon ; so that having written some thoughts as they 
occurred to my mind, I explained them as well as I 
could from my notes. 

Wor. But what was the effect of the visitation 
sermon, after you came from church, and attended 
with your brethren at the dinner ? 

Merrym. Sir, I was exceedingly shocked at the 
profane ridicule which took place against Mr. Love- 
good, almost from every quarter ; while Mr. Love- 
good, Mr. Godliman, and poor old Mr. Meek, col- 
lected together, in one corner of the room, to keep 
each other in countenance. I was heartily glad, 
however, to see, in the midst of all this contempt, 
old Dr. Orderly, and Mr. Sedate his curate, come 
up to him, and shake him by the hand, and thank 
him for his sermon. Observing, that though perhaps 
he could not entirely agree with him in all points of 
divinity he had advanced ; j^et that he had shewn a 
necessary and a well-timed zeal against the loose and 
improper conduct of too many of their brethren. 
This gave me encouragement to follow his example. 
And when I told him, that one of the most dissipated 
and negligent of the same order, begged to follow 
the doctor's example, in thanking him, from the 
bottom of my heart, for the just rebuke I had receiv- 
ed from his lips ; and prayed that God would give 



5$ 

me grace to remember it to my dying moments, a 
tear began starting from my eye, and Mr. Lovegood, 
Mr. Godliman, and Mr. Meek had enough to do to 
stifle the feelings of their minds at the same time. 
As to Mr. Lovegood, he was much more overcome 
than myself : we went and stood together for a short 
time, by a window in the room, and very little could 
either of us say, while we mingled the sympathetic 
tear with each other, as subsisting between those 
who feel the joy of angels, when one poor sinner is 
brought to repentance unto life. 

Wor. Had our invaluable friend preached nothing 
better than .a sort of a cold, formal, halfway sermon, 
he had not given half the offence, nor yet would he 
have done half the good ; truth can best defend itself 
without the assistance of our low r cunning:, in at- 
tempting to make it palatable to the carnal mind : 
but the Bishop, it seems, was quite as much pleased 
with his sermon as Dr. Orderly. 

Merry m. I was very glad the bishop took so much 
notice of him, though I heard that Rector Guzzle, 
and Mr. Toper, his curate, and Rector Fillpot, who 
sat close together, talking about nothing but good 
eating and drinking, afterwards did all they could 
to prejudice his lordship against him. It is reported 
when Rector Guzzle said, " You see, my lord, these 
modern preachers are all for grace :" the bishop re- 
plied, " It is to be lamented that the clergy, in ge- 
neral, have not more of that grace exhibited in their 
lives and conduct, which Mr. Lovegood* has so well 
recommended to their notice." Though I believe 
he also agreed with Dr. Orderly, (who is much re- 
spected by the bishop, and by every one else who 
knows him,) that Mr. Lovegood rather went a little 
too far* 

IVor. Well, I confess I cannot see the eood of 
that cold moderation which some admire. When 



56 

the cause is of God, we cannot be too zealous in pro- 
moting it. 

Merry m. But zeal, in such a cause, is sure to be 
charged as being the effect of madness. I heard of 
a near relation of mine, who has some preferment in 
Ireland, and who, but a little time ago, was quite as 
dissipated as myself, and is now as zealous for the 
cause of God as he once was for the cause of vanity 
and nonsense ; when he was accused by one of his 
" false brethren" to the bishop, as not only being 
mad himself, but that he had bitten others of the 
clergy also, received for answer, that if that was 
madness, he hoped he would go on till he had bitten 
every clergyman in his diocese. 

Wor. I rather wonder that a greater variety of ob- 
jectors did not enter the list against Mr, Lovegood's 
faithful testimony on this occasion. 

Merrym. Oh, sir, there was Mr. Flippant, a young 
strippling, just in orders ; but he puts me too much 
in mind of myself, how he went skipping and prating 
about the room against Mr. Lovegood's sermon. He 
came and asked me, among others, if had ever heard 
such a ranting fool before ? I had sufficient Gourage 
to^nswer : Oh, sir, I fear the charge of being rant- 
ing fools may be more justly urged against us for 
our wickedness, than against Mr. Lovegood for his 
preaching 

Mrs. Wor. It is of very little consequence what 
such empty chaps have to say : but, I suppose, after 
this you soon became intimate with Mr. Lovegood. 

Merrym. Madam, I could not rest, as you may 
suppose, till I had an interview with him. Directly, 
therefore, as he moved from the dinner, I followed 
him % my heart was so full that almost every word I 
spoke to him was intermixed with tears of contrition 
and remorse ; while he, with the greatest affection, 
began to pour into my wounded conscience all the 



57 

consolatory promises of the Gospel, observing what 
a great mercy it was, that I was now convinced of 
the folly and evil of my past life, and what a blessing 
this might prove to hundreds besides, if, by die 
gnjce of God, I continued in the same mind. When 
we parted, Mr. Lovegood affectionately invited me 
to see him. As it unfortunately happened, I was en- 
gaged on a visit to Mr. Bluster, at Revel Hall ; Mr. 
Lovegood advised me to send my excuse, as I could 
bow say I was engaged on a business which demand- 
ed my particular attention. So the time I meant for 
Mr. Bluster I passed with Mr. Lovegood. 

Wor. It proved a very favourable event, that im- 
mediately as you found your need of an instructor, 
you at once had one at hand so excellently well cal- 
culated for your purpose. 

Merry m. Indeed, Sir, it was; for you must think 
what a situation I was in, when just emerging from 
my ignorance, a mere babe in Christ, and in spiri- 
tual knowledge, I found that I had to fill the place of 
a father in God ; for such fathers, I apprehend, are 
the only fit instructors of the children oi '-God.*- 
• IVor. I fear there were very few who could pro- 
perly be called the children of God, who needed 
} 7 our instruction m that parish, so that the difficulty 
could not be very considerable while you had to in- 
struct others still more ignorant than yourself., 

Merrym. True, sir, but then I- was perfectly igno- 
rant how I was to set about that low office ol a spi- 

. * It is;probabk that on this supposition the fears of Thomas Newman; 
were excited, in dialogue the 6th, lest Mr. Lovegood should be promo- 
ted from the vicarage of .Brookfield to the archbishoprick of Can erbury, - 
• judging very, rightly how well he deserved, not only the title of the 
right reverend, but even the most reverend Fa'her in God, both from the" 
rich experienceof the Gospel on his o\yn heart, and having ho so ma- 
ny around him, who were his spiritual children, and over whom he ac ed 
in a manner so fatherly and so wise. Oh, that a Mr. Lovegood, inde- 
pendent of-cvery- political principle, may never be wanting to {ill each 
vacant bishopries in our land ! 

F2 



58 

ritual instructor : but by passing the two days I de- 
signed for Mr. Bluster with Mr. Lovegood, he gave 
me a clue for obtaining spiritual knowledge, which 
afterwards proved a wonderful advantage to me. 
He particularly advised me to read the first book of 
Homilies ; to employ my time in modernizing the 
language, and then read them over as sermons, to 
my congregation. 

Wor. Did you take the advice ? 

Merry m. Sir, I have before told you I could think 
of nothing but myself, and my ignorance directly as 
I began to examine myself by the new views which 
had been brought to my mind : and though I found 
the book of Homilies exceedingly instructive, and 
though I have loved the church of England ever 
since, as in this land she is certainly the pillar and 
ground of truth * ; yet I rather chose to follow that 
part of Mr. Lovegood's advice, to attempt some in- 
structive hints, as I read the lessons appointed for 
the public service, and when I got into the pulpit, 
I have before told you how I stammered out the 
truth as well as I could. 

Wor. I should suppose this change wrought on 
your heart, was not a greater blessing to yourself 
than a matter of astonishment to all the people at 
Sandover. 

Merrym. I bless God, many of my parishioners 
were not less affected than myself, when I began 
to tell them all, how grieved I was that I had been 
leading them wrong, both by my example and doc- 
trine ; and that now I hoped in God, that I should 

* Mr. Merryman might not suppose from that observation, that no 
blemishes could be found which vindicated the conduct of others in their 
conscientious dissent from the established church ; though he laments 
that there are any such dissenters to be found, as biame Mr. Merryman 
and others, for their conscientious conformity to a church, notwithstand- 
ing some defects, whose liturgy is so evangelical, and whose doctrines 
are so sound. 



59 

preach them better doctrine, and shew them a better 
example ; and while I was thus talking to the peo- 
ple, it is amazing how poor Sam Resolute, one of my 
comrades in iniquity, was affected. I was in hopes 
for some time that his heart had been truly chang- 
ed ; but since then he has awfully declined. I hope, 
however, he will yet be brought back, for I met with 
him the other day, after he had been at a horse race, 
and begged him to come into my house. He follow- 
ed me like a criminal ; I plucked up courage, and 
would go to prayer with him, and it is amazing how 
he wept, and with what contrition he mentioned his 
backsliding state. 

Wor. People must have been filled with remark- 
able astonishment at such a change. 

Merrym. Why, sir, it was beyond expression curi- 
ous what strange reports fled about the country con- 
fcerning me. Some said, that the change was occa- 
sioned by dejection of spirits, having met with a 
heavy loss by gaming ; others found out that I had 
been crossed in love ; some said that I had seen my 
uncle's apparition, who died afyout six weeks be- 
fore ; and others thought it was the effect of a fall 
from my horse, when I was taken up for dead at 
Gambleton races, whereby my scull had been nearly 
fractured, and that now I was quite gone mad. In 
short, it was so currently reported, that I was mad, 
that young Ned Sparkish, one of my comrades in 
vanity, actually came over to see me, and enquired 
if it might not be necessary to consult a Physician, 
to know what remedy might be necessaEy to heal the 
cracked scull I met with on the horse course. 

Miss Wor. Why, sir, I should'rather think it 
might have been supposed your scull was quite as 
much cracked when you were galloping after every 
mad amusement, and when you pitied me and my 
sisters, at Mr. Bluster's, that we were to be bred up 



60 

in such a mopish manner, as that we were not to be 
allowed to touch a card ; and as you expressed your- 
self, that my father would as soon see the devil come 
into the house as a dancing-master ; but I am sure, 
what the grace of God has done upon your heart has 
been a great blessing to me. 

Merrym. Why, madam, who could tell you I 
made such a speech as that? I confess, though I 
have frequently expressed my pity that Mr. Worthy 
should educate his daughters in such a mopish man- 
ner, as I then thought it ; yet I don't think I ever 
said your father " would as soon see the devil in his 
house as a dancing-master." 

Wor. [to his daughter~\ This, you know, my dear, 
was a speech of Mr. Spiteful; and when he has 
it in his power to exemplify the spleen of his heart 
against any of the supporters of vital religion, he 
never thinks it a crime to exaggerate. 

Miss JVor. But sir, since you favoured me and my 
sisters with the present of Mrs. Hannah More's book 
on Female Education, we can very wiliingly give up 
the silly amusement of dancing and card praying, 
for the sake of the rational instructions we receive in 
the room of them. I am sure, when I happened to be 
with the Miss Giddys the other day, I was satisfied 
no body need to envy them the privileges of their 
sort of education. 

Merrym. Why, my dear Miss Worth) r , through 
the divine blessing, I now see how much it is to be 
lamented, that the young women of* the present day 
are turned out from their different boarding-schools 
such mere baubles, fools, and playthings, that they 
scarcely deserve to be esteemed as rational creatures ; 
but I had no serious views of the evils of these things 
till I became serious myself. 

TVbr. Yes, and when you were half a madman, and 
as thoughtless as you could be, you were then judged 



61 

to be in your sober senses ; but when you became 
" sober and temperate in all things," then you were 
supposed to be a madman. We never know the 
worth of our own minds till such time as we are 
blessed with the grace and mind of Christ. 

Merry m. I am sure the Spirit of God, in his di- 
vine operation on the human mind, may well be 
described as " the Spirit of wisdom and of under- 
standing. 55 What a lovely sedateness and pleasant 
calmness are they possessed of, who feel the re- 
storation of u the kingdom of heaven within them," 
which is beautifully described in Scripture as being 
" righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy 
Ghost! 55 

Wor. Mr. Lovegood preached us two admirable 
sermons, a few Sundays ago, on that subject, " The 
peace of God which passeth all understanding shall 
keep your hearts and minds through Jesus Christ. 55 — 
But here is Edward coming ; I suppose it is with a 
message from Mr. Lovegood, 

Edw . Sir, will your honour want the best parlour 
when you come in ? for a young gentleman and hi* 
lady in a one-horse chair, and a servant with them 
on horseback, stopt to read the poetry your honour 
had put over the door,*- and have asked for a dish of 
tea ; and say, if I can accommodate -them, they had 
rather stop the evening with us than go two miles 
farther to Mapleton. 

Wor. O no, Edward, we shall be going home di- 
rectly. 

Edw. But I am afraid my accommodations are not 
good enough for them ; for I am sure by their man- 
ner they are real gentlefolk. 

Mrs* Wor. Then you will find it still more easy 
to accommodate them. You have all things, though 
in a plain way, yet very clean and neat ; and if they 

* See Dialogue 17th. 



m 

want any thing you have not got, send to Trusty, 
my housekeeper, and she will let you have it, 

[For. Well, we will leave a couple of the largest 
trout for your guests, and call on Mr. Lovegood ; and 
we will go home and leave the house clear for your 
visitants. 

JEdw. Thank your honour and madam, for your 
kindness. 

Wor. Farewell, Edward. But be sure and send 
if you want any thing. 



63 

DIALOGUE XX. 



BETWEEN MR. WORTHY, MR. LOVELY, AND 
OTHERS. 



THE CONTRAST ; OR, CONJUGAL HAPPINESS, FOUNDED ON 
CHASTITY, FIDELITY, AND AFFECTION. 

EDWARD goes to Brookfield-hali on the follow- 
ing morning, after the arrival of his new guests, 
while the family were at breakfast, and begs to speak 
to Mr. Worthy. Edward is introduced. 

Edw. Sir, your honour said, that I must call on 
you if the gentleman and lady, who came to our 
house yesterday evening, wanted any thing. They 
want nothing but the liberty to walk in your ho- 
nour's park ; and they are so pleased with the situa- 
tion, and so well contented with our plain way of 
accommodating them, that they mean to stop over 
Sunday; for I made bold to tell them what a -won* 
derfuljine man we had for the minister of our parish^ 
and that it was he who made the verses your honour 
had put over the door ; but I should be ashamed to 
put them into our pew. 

Wbr. Well, Edward, there will be no difficulty 
on that score, for though we are pretty well crowd- 
ed with Mr. Considerate's family and our own, yet 
my daughters can sit with Mrs. Lovegood, and then 
we shall have room for them. 

Mrs. Wor. But do you want any thing for their 
accommodation. 

Edw. Nothing, madam, but Mrs. Trusty's receipt 
with your leave to make some jellies ; the Lady is in a 
very poor state of health, and he is so tender of her ! 
They seem to be a most loving pair — Poor Mrs. 
Chipman ! the sight of it quite cuts her to the heart ; 



64 

she is always saying she might have been as happy 
agtfthey are, if it had not been for her own folly, and 
the evil consequences of sin. 

Mrs. TVor. Trusty shall send some jellies to your 
house directly. 

TVor. Perhaps a little fruit also may be acceptable. 

Edw. Why, the Lady Was asking if we had any, 
and we gathered some cherries and strawberries for 
them ; but it is not in our way to raise such dain- 
ties as your honour has at the Hall. 

TVor. I shall tell the gardener to send them a bas- 
ket of fruit, and I shall call on you to-morrow, and 
invite them to tea. 

Edw. Thank your honour. The dear gentleman, 
(and I 'am sure, by his kind and good behaviour, 
he must be some downright gentleman ;) — He thinks 
about nothing but his wire ; she is very sickly, and 
he is sadly afraid he shall lose her. 

TVor. I hope it is not another sir Charles and Lady 
Dash's story. 

Edw. O sir, their behaviour is so different, it can- 
not be : — I am sure it cannot be. 

TVor. Have you learnt the gentleman's name ? 

Edw. Why, sir, when their servant sat down to 
supper with us, I made bold to ask him — His name 
is Lovely. He came from a place called Fairfield, 
near Grediton. It is amazing what a character the 
man gives his master and mistress, and what an affect- 
ing story he tells about them ; I think there have 
been nothing but affecting stories at our house of 
late ; as how he married against the' consent of his 
rich uncle ; and that he is very angry with him ; but 
I Can scarcely tell your honour the rights of it. 

[On the next day Mr. Worthy accomplished- his 
hospitable design : as the weather proved lowering, 
Mrs. Lovely continued the guest of Mrs. Worthy, 
while Mr. Worthv and Mr. Lovtiv took a short 



65 

walk about the gardens ; and, when seated in the 
greenhouse, the following conversation took place.] 

Wor. I am afraid you meet with homely accom- 
modations at the Golden Lion, though I am satis- 
fied the worthy landlord and his wife, will, in their 
plain way, do their best to accommodate you. 

Lovely. O, sir, we can never be more delighted 
w T ith our accommodation than we are. As we passed 
by we stopt to read the poetry : it struck us so ex- 
ceedingly, that we thought we would gratify our 
curiosity by going into the house ; we called for tea, 
and we were so astonishingly pleased with the neat 
and decent appearance of matters, that we at once 
determined to stop short of Mapleton, where we in- 
tended to have slept. Besides, we were so struck 
with the enchanting scenery from the lovely situation 
of the village, the neighbourhood being so beautifully 
dressed by the taste you have displayed about your 
own house and pleasure grounds, that we at once 
determined to continue, at least, a few days in our 
present quarters. 

Wor. Have you a long journey then before you, 
sir ? 

Lovely. Oh, no sir, I am only taking easy jour- 
neys from place to place, by the advice of our phy- 
sician, to see if any thing can be done for the re- 
covery of the health and spirits of that invaluable 
creature, who has been my wife for about these six 
months. We are under peculiar embarrassments, 
\he hesitates and wipes his eyes, then adds^\ my re- 
lations, some of whom are very affluent, are exceed- 
ingly displeased at the marriage, and I am afraid I 
shall lose the best of wives by the affliction. 

Wor. I know, sir, how indelicate it is to ask you 
questions of this sort, as it seems almost bordering 
upon impertinence ; but may I suppose your only 
crime has been, that you were captivated by a very 

Vol. II. G 



66 

amiable young woman, whose birth and education 
were inferior to your own. 

Lovely. O, sir, no apology is needed ; and our 
minds have suffered so severely by this event, that it 
will be a great indulgence to me, especially as I have 
taken the liberty to enquire so much into your cha- 
racter since I have been here, if you will allow me 
to be more particular. 

Wor. We cannot well leave our present retreat, as 
it begins to rain, and whatever you communicate 
shall be in confidence. 

Lovely. Oh, no sir, no confidence is necessary. 
The part, my dearest wife and I have acted, may be 
published in every newspaper throughout the king- 
dom, and it will never put us tothebiush. 

Wor. Sir, after such a declaration of your honour- 
able conduct, I cannot be less anxious to hear your 
story than you are to relate it. 

Lovely. Sir, before you can fully understand mat- 
ters, I must first give you a short history of our fami- 
ly connexions. My father has a small hereditary 
estate, which clears him between five and six hun- 
dred a year, and that he might increase his fortune, 
he engaged with others in a large brewery. He 
married a Miss Greedy, whose family is very rich, 
but as it is the scheme of that family, like many 
others, to hoard up all for the eldest son, her for- 
tune was nothing greater than my father had a 
right to expect, it being only three thousand pounds. 
By that marriage my father had five children ; my 
younger brother died almost an infant. So that 
our family at present consists of myself and three 
sisters ; two of these are creditably married, and for 
this they have to thank my father, who being a 
person of strict integrity, never saw it just to make 
such a vast difference between his children; and 
having thus, by care and attention, portioned off 
my sisters with very decent fortunes, he tells me 



67 

I have little to expect from him but the family 
estate. 

Wor. Well, Sir, I congratulate you in having a 
father of such integrity and worth. I am surprised 
that he should have been so displeased at your mar- 
riage. 

Lovely. He displeased at the marriage ! — no, dear 
sir, it met with his highest approbation ; and he has 
not a daughter of his own that lie can love better 
than my dearest wife ; she was a creditable trades- 
man's daughter, or rather in the mercantile line ; 
well educated and brought into the family with her 
eight hundred pounds on the day of her marriage. 
But, O sir, if you did but know half her excellen- 
cies, you would say she was the greatest fortune 
imaginable in herself, inestimable beyond the value 
of money. It has been the displeasure of my rich 
uncle, my mother's brother, which has been the 
cause of our perplexity. 

Wor. What was that to him, if your marriage was 
conducted with so much purity, chastity, and pro- 
priety ? 

Lovely. Sir, it was greediness and family pride. I 
have tainted the blood of the family by marrying 
a tradesman's daughter, when I might have enriched 
it by marrying the daughter of an Earl ; and my 
mother unhappily joined with him in all his objec- 
tions. 

Wor. But you are not of his family after all ; and 
how could you with your comparatively small for- 
tune, and when even that was not to be yours till 
after your father's death, support the daughter of an 
Earl, in the extravagant style in which they generally 
expect to live ! 

Lovely. O sir, but he meant to make me his heir. 

Wot. What then, had your uncle no children of 
his own ? 

Lovely. Sir, he never was married for the sake of 



68 - 

an offspring, but that he might enlarge his property. 
He therefore availed himself of the folly of a rich 
widow, who was fifteen years older than himself; 
and when he had possessed himself of her fortune, 
he treated her most cruelly. However, he had 
plenty of children, as is supposed, by other women ; 
for he is a most debauched character, and at the 
same time a most extortionate miser, though he was 
still fond of making a family show; and till lately he 
meant to make a son he had, by a married woman, 
in that neighbourhood, his heir ; as she was, as they 
call it, better bred than most of the low women 
with whom he had been connected : and the chil- 
dren he had by these, being ashamed to own them, he 
would have packed off to nurse, at the cheapest 
rate possible ; and nothing rejoices him so much as 
when he hears of the death of any of them. 

Wor. How came he to alter his mind, and not 
make the son you mention his heir ? 

Lovely. Sir, he bred him for that purpose, but in 
so mean a way, and introduced him among such a 
terrible set of low associates, that he turned out quite 
a blackguard : and being educated under such large 
expectations, he became also very extravagant : then 
as his father was too covetous to give him remit- 
tances equal to his extravagance, he got himself con- 
nected with a set of swindlers, and that he might be 
able to pay some gaming debts, he committed such 
crimes, that he was obliged to leave the country, 
or be sent to gaol ; my uncle therefore gave him fifty 
pounds, and sent him to America, and there, it is 
reported, lie died of the yellow fever. 

Wor. What horrid evils are connected with such a 
life of debauchery, that a man should be such a de- 
testable brute thereby, as to be ashamed of his own 
offspring, even so as to wish them dead! How different 
the happy state of those children, whose existence is 
their parents' boast and joy ; how I hate the low libi- 



69 

dinous tricks of the present evil, adulterous genera- 
tion ! 

Lovely. Sir, I am sure it is impossible to detest them 
worse than they deserve. My uncle, however, after 
the death of this, his profligate bastard, as I was his 
heir at law, began to think of adopting me as such. 
My father could never bear the name of him ; yet 
when he was frequently sending for me, he advised 
me by no means to insult him by personal incivilities, 
as his property, according to legitimate right, would 
next be mine. As my uncle ordered me, I therefore 
went to his house ; when the more I knew of him, 
the more I was disgusted with him. 

Wor. Were you obliged to live pretty constantly 
with him then ? 

Lovely. Not entirely so; for I was always striving 
to make an excuse of absence ; and the argument, 
which best succeeded with him, was about the brew- 
ery ; that as my father farmed a good deal of his 
own estate, he would be a considerable loser in the 
brewery, unless I kept the accounts ; for he never 
had but two objects in view, — by every means, how- 
ever base some of those means might be, to enrich 
the family, and to gratify his impure desires. 

Wor. Well, sir, this proved a just and providential 
excuse, to be as little as possible with such a family. 

Lovely. But, Sir, it was by this favourable turn to- 
wards me, that a chain of events was produced, 
which have proved the most perplexing and distress- 
ful to myself and my dearest Ann.. 

Wor. Really, sir, your history becomes so interest- 
ing, that I am quite anxious to hear the result of it. 

Lovely. Sir, before any expectation of being the 
adopted heir to my uncle's estates had been made 
known to me, a design of marriage had, in a great 
jneasure, been settled between my self ai id rny dearest 
wife ; and not less to the satisfaction of our parents 

G 2 



70 

than myself. All that he ever said, was " please your- 
self, and you'll please me ; money is no object ; hap- 
piness in the marriage state consists in something 
better than money :" But when my uncle was deter- 
mined to make me his heir, I was immediately to be 
married to some woman with money, or blood, as 
it is called. One of Lord Gambleton's daughters 
was therefore immediately thought of, and though 
his Lordship had considerably reduced his fortune 
by his extravagance, yet as for want of' a male issue 
they were co-heiresses, it was judged an excellent 
match on my behalf; but a more worthless right 
abominable never existed among the right honour - 
ables : and thus betwen his Lordship's blood, and 
my uncle's money, at all events I must be united to 
this noble family. 

Wor. O, this noble blood, and this love of money, 
what mischief they create ! But how did you get 
over the difficulty ? 

Lovely. Why, sir, I knew that it would not be in 
my power to deal with my uncle, but by gentle 
means. When he proposed the match, I told him 
the connexion I had in a measure formed with Miss 
Commerce before he had mentioned his kind design 
of making me his heir. He started, and said, " who 
the Devil is Miss Commerce ?" When I told him 
she was a respectable tradesman's daughter, he imme- 
diately began swearing, after the mode of his general 
conversation : " that he would never allow any of 

his family to be united with such a set of d d 

blackguards ;" calling me a low fellow, and saying, if 
I would not see Lord Gamble ton's daughter, he 
would adopt another heir ; and that he would have 
nothing more to do with me ; and that he expected 
I should first see how I liked the eldes f , as that might 
prove the greatest advantage to mystlftind the family* 

Wor. Really, .sir, you had a diiiicuity before you , 
not easily to be surmounted. 



71 

Lovely. Sir, I told him 1 could have no objection 
against seeing any of Lord Gambleton's daughters, 
but that I hoped he would put no restraint upon 
my affection, as that might prove a source of mi- 
sery to me, through life ; and so matters were 
waved for the present, till I had time to consult my 
parents. 

Wor. Well, sir, and I should hope your parents 
did not advise you to sacrifice your affections for the 
sake of money or blood. 

Lovely. O, sir, my father behaved like a father, 
but my mother was just the reverse. She was at 
once struck with the proposal ; observed, what a 
fine thing it would be, to have her son the acknow- 
ledged heir of the family to which she originally 
belonged, and to be united to such noble Blood ; and 
that my present engagement with Miss Commerce 
was not so far gone, but that I might break it off. 
O, sir, what a hard task was this to myself, and the 
dear creature to whom I am now so happily united ! 

Wor. It must have been a hard task indeed ; but 
how did you succeed in evading the difficulties of 
this perplexing dilemma ? 

Lovely. You must suppose, sir, I was under the 
necessity of meeting with Lord Gambleton's family, 
who came on purpose to visit my uncle ; and lady 
Georgiana, being the eldest, was the first I was 
ordered to notice, and who was introduced to me 
accordingly ; and of course, I was obliged to be 
very complaisant to her in return ; while, as I 
suppose, she was directed to be more than com- 
plaisant to me. I cannot express myself how much 
I was disgusted, even at first sight, at the fulsome 
forwardness of this paltry mess of noble blood, when 
brought into competition with the excellent under- 
standing, undisguised modesty, and unaffected sim- 
plicity of my dearest Ann. 



If or. Sir, I confess you would have made a sacri- 
fice much to your discredit, had you, contrary to 
every just and generous feeling, given up for such 
motives, an object so worthy of your affections. 

Lovely. Sir, if I had not taken the liberty to en- 
quire into your character, I should not have been so 
happy in your approbation of my conduct ; I am sa- 
tisfied it will therefore still meet with your approba- 
tion, when you hear the result of these events. 

IFor. Dear sir, I have now no doubt of it. 

Lovely. After this wretched bit of forwardness, 
ignorance, and self-conceit, was proposed to me, to 
supplant my dearest Ann, for the sake of money and 
blood, my uncle presently perceived how much I 
was disgusted at her, and told me, (I shall not repeat 
the disgustful oaths he made use of on this occasion,) 
what a brewery blackguard I was, mot" to behave 
more civilly to one of Lady Georgiana's rank ; that 
if I married her, I might, if I pleased, keep the 
other girl as my mistress ; and he was sure a sum of 
money, which he was ready to advance, would ac- 
complish his wishes and mine ; or that he had been 
dreadfully mistaken in the disposition of women, as 
far as ever he had to do with them. 

Wor. Then your uncle supposed that all other 
people were as unprincipled as himself; and that 
every female character was of the same description 
as those low 7 objects of his brutal desires with whom 
he had been connected ; though I confess it scarcely 
seems possible that you could have a stronger in- 
ducement presented before you, - to behave dis- 
honourably to the good lady, to whom it seems 
you were so solemnly betrothed. 

Lovely. Indeed, sir, it seemed next to nothing 
to me, after a second interview with Lady Georgi- 
ana, and Lord Gambieton's other two daughters: 
for my uncle insisted upon it, that I should go with 



73 

him to return the visit ; and, O, the horrid conver- 
sation I there heard ! the worst that could be, from 
a proud unprincipled Peer, and a worthless extor- 
tionate miser. 

Wor. 1 am afraid, Sir, I shall ask too much if I 
request you to proceed. 

Lovely. O no. Sir ; the Right Honourable had no- 
thing to say, but that from his free living, according 
to the rank of life he was obliged to fill, and through 
some gaming debts, he had diminished his fortune ; 
and that he could get no more from his tenants, as 
he had racked up their rents to the utmost penny 
he could demand ; and, therefore, as courtly favour 
generally shone on noble blood, it might prove a 
convenient match to both families. As for loving 
one girl better than another, that they conceived to 
be all nonsense : and though it seemed necessary 
to propose the eldest first, yet if I proved rather 
squeamish about Lady Georgiana, there was Lady 
Augusta, and Lady Catharine, though there is scarce 
a pin to chuse between them ; if any thing I think 
the preference might have been given to the eldest, 
but I am sure bad was the best. Still it was by no 
means against their noble blood that I was disgusted ; 
let people be as honourable in character and conduct 
as they are by birth and title, and I would always 
esteem them worthy of double honour ; but when 
these three empty scraps of vanity were to be 
brought into competition with my dearest Ann, I 
confess they appeared the most odious creatures I 
ever beheld. 

Wor. I am sure, sir, that you, as a man of thought, 
must have felt very severely on this occasion. You 
cannot be ignorant of the style of education among 
young persons of rank : look at the plain, honest, 
country milk-maid ; next contrast her with the vain 
baubles turned out, not only from the families of 



too many of the Right Honourables of the day, but 
from most of our modern boarding schools : these 
from being first mere babies, afterwards get some- 
thing above it as they grow up towards child-hood ; 
then they are sent to those destructive places of fe- 
male education, where they are a second time redu- 
ced almost to a state of baby-hood; and in this fool's 
paradise, they seem happy to live through all their 
lives, fifty times more offensive babies than if they 
had never left their cradles. 

Lovely, Yes, sir, and three such as these were then 
presented before me, on account of money and blood, 
to be preferred to the excellent and intelligent person 
I now enjoy. 

Wor. I should suppose, however, you must have 
suffered much, before you could have been extricated 
from these difficulties. 

Lovely. Indeed, sir, no person could have been 
called to a more severe contest than I have sustained, 
between my affection, my judgment, and my worldly 
interest; for my uncle's principles were perfectly li- 
bertine. He would be ever saying, that " the end of 
life is for every man to gratify himself, as suited best 
with his natural appetites and dispositions." He 
w r as perpetually reading heaps of French publications 
on that subject : but here was my difficulty ; what 
he liked best, I was to like best also, or else suffer 
the vengeance of his high displeasure. He had fully 
imbibed the sentiments belonging to their system of 
mock liberty, that men should be left to live as they 
list, without the least controul, 

IVor. What government can subsist, where every 
one is governed by his own abominable lusts and 
passions? But your mother thus joining with your 
uncle's views, must have been another very consider- 
able impediment in your way. 

Lovely. Indeed it was; for she began immediately 



75 

to act so cruelly and disgustingly to my wife, that 
she was soon obliged to discontinue all her visits to 
our house, though before these golden promises were 
made, it was a settled business that a marriage should 
take place. 

Wor. Well, sir, under such circumstances as you 
have related, neither your father nor your mother 
ought to have refused their consent ; and, I am sure, 
when they had once solemnly given it, they had no 
right to retract it ; and on account of such motives 
so improperly retracted, it would be equally unjust 
in either of you to have renounced the pure and 
chaste promises of a mutual connexion, which sub- 
sisted between you. It were well, if both parents 
and children would duly consider the proper limits 
of their reciprocal duty towards each other ; but for 
want of this, how frequently do children and parents 
distract their own minds, and destroy the peace of 
all connected with them ! But what was the result 
of these matters ? 

Lovely. Sir, my uncle for once gained a victory 
over his covetousness, by straining a point in con- 
nexion with Lord Gambieton, to see if they could 
not bribe her, by the promise of a thousand pounds, 
provided she would be off from the engagement. 
The accomplishment of this business was to be put 
into the hands of my mother, and she the more 
eagerly entered into it, as her head was filled with 
a set of splendid dreams, that if they could blend 
the two families into one, whether it might not be 
possible to procure another patent of peerage, on 
behalf of the female line, through which the noble 
blood was still to flow ; and nothing pleased the pride 
of my poor mother like the idea that her only son 
might by this match wear a coronet ; and upon these 
chimerical principles of happiness, we were called to 
sacrifice our affections and solemn engagements witji 
each other. 



7Vor. The feelings of both your minds, must have 
been seriously disgusted by such base contrivances ; 
and at the same time so artfully calculated to tempt 
both of you to violate the solemn promises which 
had subsisted between yourselves : but how did Mrs. 
Lovely receive the proposal ? 

Lovely. Sir, the immediate answer my wife sent, 
(for we were not then together,) was just what I 
should have expected from the independent dignity, 
chastity, and goodness of her mind : " That to paw 7 n 
her affections for the lucre of gain, was so much be- 
neath every feeling she possessed, that she at once 
rejected it with entire disdain ; and that if they could 
find a chapman in me, for the sake of such re- 
wards to give her up, "after the most sacred promises 
which had passed between us, she should ever esteem 
it a most merciful deliverance to escape one of so 
mean a mind ; and that it would be nothing with her, 
whether I married any of Lord Gambleton's daugh- 
ters, or any one else I might chuse to prefer, though 
she herself had not the most distant idea, that I 
could act a part so unfeeling, so ungenerous, and so 
vile." Dear sir, who could not but admire a mind 
replete with such dignity of thought, and with such 
a generosity of heart ? 

JVor. But, I hope, sir, that this spirited letter so 
far settled matters, as that you got rid of these im- 
portunities, that you might marry according to your 
wish ? 

Lovely. No, sir, my uncle still kept up his expec- 
tations, that, either by craft or cruelty, they might 
prevent our union ; and in order to accomplish this, 
the next plan was to send me into the south-west of 
Ireland, where he had an estate, that I might see after 
his tenants, and collect some arrears of rent, with a 
merciless, crafty, hard-hearted, wretch of a lawyer 
at my elbow, to watch all my motions ; and with se- 
cret instructions to try to debauch my morals and 



77 

conduct as fast as he could ; but ill this, I thank God, 
he could not succeed, and there I was ordered to con- 
tinue till my uncle followed me, which, as he said, 
would be in a few weeks. 

By this plausible pretext, in first making me the 
steward of what, according to his promise, I was after- 
wards to possess, I conceived it my duty to follow 
his directions. But this. was all done to try if possible 
to break the heart of my dearest Ann. Being, how- 
ever, suspicious of their designs, I made it a point to 
call on her before I went, and after I had told her 
the difficulties I had to encounter with,. I pledged 
myself, in the most solemn manner, before her and 
her parents, that, whatever might be the conse- 
quence, we would unite for life. 

Wor. Sir, I love you to my heart, for your fidelity. 

Lovely. But, O, sir, I never shall forget what we 
all felt on this occasion ; though what I did was 
under a positive and deliberate determination, that I 
had rather a thousand times support myself, as the 
servant of my father's brewery, with such a wife, 
than be united to the best of the three noble paltry 
puppets that had been exhibited before me. 

Wor. Were you obliged to be long absent on this 
errand ? 

Lovely. Sir, my uncle kept me above three months 
in suspense ; still making some frivolous excuse to 
delay his coming. And, O ! what tricks and projects 
to accomplish their designs of preventing our union ! 
First, the letter-carrier, unknown to the post-master, 
was bribed to bring all letters that passed between 
my dear Ann and myself, to my uncle or my mother, 
and these were opened and secreted from each of us. 

One letter she was allowed to receive, written as 
by my direction, though not in my hand ; stating 
that I had employed one of my comrades in wicked- 
ness, to correspond with one Mary Coleman, acom- 

Vol. II. H 



78 

mon strumpet, engaging to give her twenty pounds 
a year for the maintenance of a bastard, they feigned 
I had by her, as I was under the necessity to marry 
Lady Georgiana Gambleton, from family circum- 
stances; but still that my occasional visits should not 
be wanting ; and this letter was supposed to have 
been mis-sent and intercepted, and then conveyed 
into the hands of that good little woman, that it 
might be the cause of breaking off the match, or of 
breaking her heart ; and indeed it had nearly accom- 
plished the design. Nobody can tell the distracted 
state of mind she was immediately thrown into, and 
in which she continued, till the fraud was detected ; 
and the contrary surprise of joy, when the plot was 
discovered, was not less trying to her tender feelings, 
than the deep grief she had before sustained. 

Wor. What an infernal plan was this, to ruin the 
peace of both your minds ! but could Mrs. Lov&y 
for a moment believe all this ? 

Lovely. Sir, she knew not what to believe. Her 
nights were sleepless ; and her mind was almost dis- 
tracted. First, she could not account for my ap- 
parent neglect, as our letters were intercepted : and 
then my mother, being deep in the stratagem, was 
directed to tell my dear Ann, that she had it from 
my authority to inform her, that our connexion 
could not take place, as circumstances were so al- 
tered since I first became acquainted with her ; and 
that still a large recompence for her disappointment 
would be at her disposal, when she chose to accept 
it : and these accumulated circumstances, at once 
threw her on a bed of sickness, from which it was 
expected she would never recover. 

Wor. Indeed, if she believed half the stratagem, 
replete with such dissimulation and craft, no won- 
der that she should be completely overset by the 
apparent cruelty of your conduct But how could 



79 

they suppose that a plan of this sort should not very 
speedily have been discovered ? 

Lovely. Sir, it seems they had other steps to pur* 
sue, that their tricks and projects might not be dis- 
closed. During my residence in Ireland, a reverend 
gentleman was to be sent after me, known by the 
name of Dr. Cringer, who was to take me out of 
the way for several months, by conducting me the 
tour of Europe, and to make me the accomplished 
gentleman, by teaching me some of the modern 
European languages. This gentleman was one of 
Lord Gambleton's chaplains, and possessed a living 
in his gift ; and since then I have discovered him to 
be the meanest sycophant, and the merest toadeater 
to his lordship that ever existed : however, this plot 
discovered itself before it was fully accomplished. 

Wor. I should be happy to hear how this took 
place. 

Lovely. Sir, while my dearest Ann was lying, as 
it was supposed, on her death- bed, her father wrote 
to my father to know what could be the crfuse of all 
these strange circumstances; and why he should staffer 
the loss of such an invaluable daughter by a conduct 
so treacherous and unjust in me. Immediately both 
our parents met on the occasion ; it would require 
some hours to tell you the pains they took to inves- 
tigate the stratagem ; but yet how speedily they 
transmitted to me the discoveries they had made ! 

TVor. You must have been considerably struck at 
this discovery. 

Lovely. Struck, sir ! nobody can tell what I felt 
under the idea that the affectionate and generous 
heart of that excellent creature was ready to break 
through my supposed treachery, while I loved her 
inexpressibly, and was so fully determined to be 
faithful to my vows. 

Wor. But I should hope, sir, your perplexities 



80 

soon terminated with the discovery of these different 
plots. 

Lovely. Sir, I made not a moment's hesitation to 
travel directly from Ireland to Mr. Commerce's; and, 
though I took all possible care that matters might be 
so broken to my dear Ann, as that she might not be 
too much overcome by the news of my arrival, and 
by the consideration of the events, which made me 
take the journey; yet, O, sir, what a meeting it was! 
Her tender and affectionate frame was so overpow- 
ered, especially during the first interview, as that 
no words can sufficiently express what she, and, in- 
deed, all of us, felt : we wept, and sobbed, and thus 
sympathized with each other for some time, before 
a single word could be spoken, on either side. At 
length our affectionate parents retired from the room, 
and when they returned, they informed us, that 
they had both entered into a firm resolution, that 
in order to put an end to all these detestable tricks 
and cabals, we should never again separate from each 
other till our marriage had actually taken place, for 
that they cared nothing for all events and conse- 
quences about large estates, and noble blood, as 
they were determined to make us both happy by 
an immediate union. — All this was kept an entire 
secret from my mother and uncle ; and as soon as 
my dear Ann was sufficiently recovered to be con- 
veyed to Church, we were married accordingly; 
and, O, sir, the tears of sympathy, of mutual af- 
fection and joy, on that occasion, will never be for- 
gotten ! 

TFor. But, I suppose, this must have given consi- 
derable offence to your uncle. 

Lovely. Sir, I did all in my power to soften mat- 
ters, but in vain ; for, immediately after marriage, I 
returned to the post at which my uncle had stationed . 
me in Ireland ; and, though I had found that the 



81 

worthless lawyer he sent with me, had informed 
him of my elopement, yet, as he could only guess 
at the cause, I had to reveal the event to my uncle 
by letter. This I did with as much tenderness and 
respect as circumstances would admit, assuring him, 
that if I had displeased him by taking this step, yet 
that, in every other point of view, I wished to ap- 
pear respectful, obedient, and attentive to his com- 
mands ; but, that I most humbly requested him, if 
he still meant me as his heir, that he would dispense 
with the European tour, at least, for the present ; as 
duty and affection strongly called me to attend upon 
the excellent young woman who was now become 
my wife, and who possessed every possible qualifi- 
cation to render herself a most highly respected cha- 
racter, in every situation of life she might be called, 
to fill. 

Wor. You should have added, excepting that of 
noble blood. But how did your uncle receive this 
letter ? 

Lovely. Sir, his rage was inexpressible. He wrote, 
me a few lines, filled with oaths, for my folly ; 
charging me to leave his house in Ireland directly ; 
and to undertake the office I held at my father's 
brewery, as that was the most fit for me and the 
shopkeeper'* s girl, I. had presumed to marry against 
his consent. 

Wor. Well, sir, after all, it cannot be said you 
have lost what you never had, though the sacrifice 
you have made, of what you had in reversion, was 
very great ; but, still you have gained the greatest 
advantage to your character and conscience, and an 
excellent wife into the bargain. 

Lovely'. O, sir, I have a lull compensation for all 
my losses and troubles; though she had not ;be sup- 
posed advantages of the politer style of education 
of the day, yet, having a very strong and retentive 

II 2 



82. 

mind, by her own diligence and attention, she has 
provided for herself a fund of knowledge above most 
of her sex. She is exceedingly well read in history, 
and even in some branches of philosophy, especially 
in astronomy ; the languages have, by no means, 
escaped her notice : she is a perfect mistress of the 
English, and writes an admirable letter; and all this 
knowledge she acquired by her own industry, in the 
midst of the hurry and bustle of the domestic con- 
cerns of a large family, to which she always gave 
the utmost attention ; at one time very diligent as 
her father's scribe, and at another time not less atten- 
tive to fill an active station, even behind the counter 
when needed. 

fflor. After such real accomplishments as these, 
you had no great cause to lament the loss of what is 
called a politer education. Had she been one of those 
poor, paltry, affected, ignorant, conceited misses^ 
turned out of our modern boarding schools, the loss 
of such a flimsy bit of nonsense in female shape might 
have easily been repaired. 

Lovely. Yes, sir, but to me it appears as though 
the world could not produce her equal ; she is one of 
such an obliging mind and temper, that she never is 
happy, but as she can make others happy ; while she 
is blessed with a disposition the most serene, affec- 
tionate and kind. I am sure, if I can but preserve 
her life, I think I shall be the happiest man upon the 
earth. [Lovely weeps.'] 

Wor. Well, sir, as the principal cause of her per- 
plexity existed no longer, let us hope that her health 
will not only soon be restored ; but that the rage of 
your uncle will, after awhile, subside, notwithstand- , 
ing he has been disappointed in his projects. " The 
hearts of all are in the hands of God. " 

Lovely. Sir, these things are nothing to me : I pos- 
sess ail I want in my dearest wife, though I heard 






83 

that my uncle should say to my mother, the other 
day, that he could not but admire my honesty ; not- 
withstanding I was such a fool, (with an oath,) in not 
following his directions; and another event took 
place soon after our marriage, which appeared to us 
not less remarkable than unexpected. 

Wor. What was that, Sir ? 

Lovely. One of the former generation of the 
Greedy s, a great-uncle of mine, still lives : he is 
an old lawyer, and is now past eighty; though he 
is covetous and mean, and mercenary to a proverb, 
yet, soon after our marriage, he came to see us ; and 
mentioned how sorry he was, that the match was 
displeasing to my uncle, though he confessed he ap- 
proved of it highly, as he believed my wife would 
be a very prudent and saving woman ; and had I mar- 
ried any of Lord Gamhieton's daughters, they might 
have made me a spendthrift, and that he hated nothing 
worse. Now as I must be very unhappy at home, 
on account of my mother's displeasure ; and as my 
wife's spirits and strength were much impaired by 
what she had already sustained, he said he feared 
her life was in danger ; and therefore had consulted 
a physician for her, who had prescribed moderate 
travelling, or a change of scene, without much 
fatigue, as her disease was more in her mind than 
her body ; and, therefore, he advised me to take 
her, by slow journeys, from place to place, that her 
health and spirits might be recruited. In order to 
cover these expences, he begged my acceptance of 
fifty pounds ; promising, at the same time, to leave 
me all his property, provided he saw that I was a 
frugal young man ; engaging also to do all in his 
■power to reconcile my mother to the match. 

Wor. Well, sir, though your great-uncle's dis- 
position inclines him to be parsimonious and mean, 
yet, in this respect, he behaved to you in a maimer 
that was generous and kind. 



84 

Lovely. Yes, sir, but the very next day he re- 
pented of it ; and wrote to my father, telling him 
that he must have interest for it while he lived, 
though he still meant to appoint me his heir ; he 
never was known before to do a single action, that 
looked either generous or kind ; but having had 
several sharp contests about money matters, with 
my uncle, who had lately discarded me, they were 
quite at variance; he seemed, therefore, to be willing 
to take me up in opposition to him. Nor did my 
uncle's way of living please my great-uncle at any 
rate ; for though he would do any thing for money, 
yet, at times, when among the great, from family 
pride, he would be somewhat splendid and expen- 
sive in his style of living ; and this always displeased 
my great-uncle exceedingly. 

Wor. Ah, sir, such are the clashings of interest, 
found among the vices of mankind ! But the dis- 
pleasure of your mother must have been the cause of 
considerable concern to the whole of your family. 

Lovely. O, Sir, it has entirely destroyed our fa- 
mily happiness ; though it is my father who has 
felt the most : he neither can find any happiness in 
my mother as his wife, nor can I find any comfort 
in her as a parent, while she hates my dearest Ann 
as much as my father loves her ; and is living in 
perpetual hopes of her death, that another effort 
may be made, if possible, to get me in the mind to 
relish some of this noble blood : so that, at present, 
we are obliged to retire from home for the sake of 
peace ; and all this is the more cutting, as it comes 
from a mother, who once appeared to love me very 
tenderly ; but, still she is my mother ; it is too pain- 
ful for my recollection ! 

Wor. I perceive then, dear sir, that you are al- 
most under the necessity of a temporary banishment ; 
and as travelling from place to place is very expen- 
sive, do, sir, let me request the favour of you and 



85 

Mrs. Lovely to pass some time -witli us at Brook- 
field Hall. We are supposed to live in a salutary air ; 
and you have your own little vehicle to take your- 
self and Mrs. Lovely to different parts about the 
country, for the sake of moderate exercise and air ; 
you can travel about as you may like, and still make 
my house your head-quarters. If you please, sir, 
as the shower seems to be over, we will adjourn to* 
the house, and settle it with Mrs. Lovely. I am 
sure Mrs. Worthy and my daughters will be very 
happy in her company ; Mrs. Lovely's want of 
noble blood will be of no consequence at our house. 
We are no great admirers of this commodity, as it is 
in general found in its present degenerate state. 

Lovely. Dear sir, what kindness and attention to 
an entire stranger ! But as to support, both my father 
and my wife's father are determined to join in all 
that is necessary to assist during our present perplexi- 
ties ; and, though we suppose we must retire, for 
the sake of peace, into some little country cot, at a 
distance from my mother, till matters may soften; 
yet, should it please God to restore her health, a very 
little will make us comfortable, as we are so happy 
with each other. But I am sure, sir, Mrs. Lovely 
will be quite overcome by your most kind and affec- 
tionate attention to our situation. 

Wor. O, sir, don't mention any thing about these 
matters. I don't know what comfort there can be 
in life, but as we act for the mutual good of each 
other. True Christianity is sure to produce real po- 
liteness without the assistance of the affectatioxf of 
the world. We are commanded to " be given to 
hospitality," and to "be pitiful and courteous." I 
must, therefore, insist upon it, that you allow me, 
without any further ceremony, to make you and 
Mrs. Lovely our guests, while you continue in these 
parts. [To a day labourer."] Here, John, go directly 
to the Golden Lion, and ask for Mr. Lovely's ser- 



86 

vant, and tell him to bring his master's horses and 
carriage, and all their packages, immediately to my 
house. 

Lovely. Oh, dear sir, this is quite too much ! 
— I am afraid my poor dear wife will feel herself 
entirely thrown out of that humble contemplative 
state of retirement we wish to enjoy, by her being 
introduced into your house. 

Wor. O, Mrs. Lovely will find just the contrary, 
within half an hour after she has really commenced 
our guest : we have nothing to do with the fulsome 
formal parade of the world at our house. \To the 
labour er.~\ Why don't you go, John? 

John. An't please your honour, I'll go directly. 

Lovely. Sir, if you insist upon such an extraordi- 
nary act of hospitality, I should be glad to go with 
him, as I have some matters to settle with my ser- 
vant on this remove. 

fVor. Well, sir, then I shall go to the house, and 
tell Mrs. Worthy and Mrs. Lovely how we have set- 
tled matters, and shall expect your speedy return. 

Mr. Worthy and Mr. Lovely immediately sepa- 
rated ; but as there are still a variety of events which 
may require an abridgement to prevent repetition, 
the reader will excuse the dress of dialogue, while 
he is further informed, that Mr. Worthy accord- 
ingly went home, and in the fulness of his benevo- 
lent heart received Mrs. Lovely rather too abruptly 
for the tender feelings of her delicate and senti- 
mental mind; telling her that he had heard every 
circumstance respecting them ; and that he was 
quite in raptures at the fidelity and integrity of Mr. 
Lovely's conduct ; and begged their acceptance of 
every token in his power of their hospitality and 
esteem. He insisted upon it that they should be their 
guests, at least, for some days ; and that, after they 
had received a short sample of their sincere and 



St 

sympathetic regard, they should judge for themselves, 
how long they might further favour them with their 
company. 

This so won upon the mind of Mrs. Lovely, that 
she could scarcely support herself under the strong 
impressions of gratitude she felt from this instance 
of truly Christian benevolence. Her husband just 
then came in, and found her scarcely able to speak, 
and in tears, from the influence this had upon her 
most grateful and affectionate disposition. 

The cause of this was immediately explained to 
him. Let the reader's imagination next describe 
the feelings of this very sincere and affectionate 
youth ; thus engaged in wiping away each tear as it 
dropt from her eye, while he had enough to do to 
quell the like sympathetic tear as it involuntarily 
forced itself through the same sluices of his affection : 

o 

and then let him judge whether Mr. Lovely would 
have been a happier man, had he neglected one of 
such a mind, for the sake of either of the three un- 
sentimental baubles, whichever it might have been, 
that, through the mere pride and covetousness of 
the parties, was designed to have been entailed upon 
him. 

Thus Mr. and Mrs. Lovely commenced the guests 
of Mr. and Mrs. Worthy, while the honest landlord 
of the Golden Lion parted with them with consi- 
derable regret. They could not, however, help re- 
marking, in the course of the evening's conversation, 
how very orderly all their little matters were con- 
ducted at the public house, and that it was the first 
house they ever remembered of that sort in which 
they heard the private voice of family prayer. 

In the course of the evening conversation, Mr, 
Lovely started some queries concerning a young 
woman, who appeared quite of a dejected turn* of 
mind, and asked whether it was from some deep af- 
fliction, or, it should rather appear, from some melan- 



88 ±/ s % 

dioly derangement. But when Mr. Worthy begaft 
to tell the story of Mrs. Chipman, as ithas been be- 
fore related to the reader, it was soon foun<;l too 
strong a contrast of what had passed between Mr. 
and Mrs. Lovely, for their tender minds to bear, 
especially as related to the feelings of Mrs. Chipman, 
since she had been made sensible of the evil conse- 
quences of sin. The conversation, therefore, took 
another turn. Mrs. Worthy made some enquiries 
into the family of the Lovelys, as her mother used 
to claim relationship to some of that name. By this 
means they discovered that there was no very distant 
relationship between the Worthys and the Lovelys, 
though they were very glad it was not on the side of 
the Greedy s. Mr. Lovely also had to console him- 
self with a hope, that an intermixture into that fa- 
mily might ultimately be of no great harm to the 
next generation, as his grandfather was too much 
the other way, and had suffered considerably, by 
lending large sums of money to some, in being se- 
curity lor others, and liberal upon all occasions, so 
that his fortune had been much injured by his gene- 
rosity. 

Upon this discovery, the easy and affectionate ap- 
pellation of cousin , was at once adopted, and the con- 
versation became familiar ; soon after which, the 
day was terminated by supper, and prayer. The day 
following being the sabbath, the reader may expe<i 
another dialogue, as the result of that day's exer- 
cises. And if this dialogue be now in the hands of 
those wbo retire to their rest, without first dedicat- 
ing themselves to God, by family prayer ; while 
they conclude the evening by reading this little 
dramatic attempt, may this laudable custom, so se- 
riously attended to at Brookfield Hall, excite my 
kind readers also to break through the uiled bur- 
ners of sloth and shame ; and, ere they c ose their 
eyes in sleep," may they close the day with God ! 



89 



DIALOGUE XXI. 



BETWEEN THE LOVELYS AND THE FAMILY OF 
BROOKFIELD HALL. 



THE CLAIMS OF SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED, 

THE following day being Sunday, Mr. and Mrs. 
Lovely attended the family to Brookfteld Church. 
The pleasing sight of so large and devout a congre- 
gation, collected from every quarter, and the holy 
reverence with which the service was conducted, 
surprised them not a little. Mr. Lovegood's ser- 
mon was from that text; " Our light affliction, 
which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far 
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory :" and, 
though they both felt the itxt suitable and desirable, 
as it related to their own situation ; yet the applica- 
tion, at first, rather surprised them, that w T e were 
all sinners before God; and that chastisement was- 
needed to detect the latent venom of corrupted na- 
ture, however it might be cloaked from cur view, 
Jj>v the favourable circumstance of a good disposi- 
Tioti, and a life of strict morality : that though we 
should esteem every good we enjoy as " the gift of 
God," and hold such gifts in due estimation, , as they, 
at least, prevent an abundance of evil ; yet. the real 
good which made us meet for heaven arose from 
another source : and, though he believed that where 
there was a high degree of morality, or uprightness 
before man, (as even so much as this was of uncom- 
mon growth,) he humbly trusted that there might be 
Vol. II. I P 



90 

the seeds of the divine principle secretly implanted ; 
yet, after all it is " the grace of God that bringeth 
salvation, and which teacheth us to deny ungodli- 
ness and worldly lusts ; and to live soberly, righte- 
ously, and godly in this present world." And in 
Mr. Lovegood's application of his sermon, though he 
cautiously avoided an indiscriminate charge against 
all good, as though it were evil, because we our- 
selves are so ; yet, he still urged that there was no- 
thing good in us, but what was blended with evil. 
He appealed to the consciences of his hearers, if 
all of them had not found, more or less, some 
unwarrantable murmurings and repinings against 
God, during sharp and heavy afflictions ; until their 
hearts, under the influence of divine grace, were 
duly humbled to acknowledge their own sinfulness 
in his sight. He then brought the instance of holy 
Job, how he, for a time, was found in rebellion against 
the correcting hand of God, till he was better in- 
structed by a deeper knowledge of his holiness to 
cry in humble submission, " Behold, I am vile." 

These considerations brought to Mrs. Lovely's 
recollection the many unwarrantable reflections 
which had passed her own mind during her afflic- 
tions, though she thought little of them for the mo- 
ment ; yet now, for the first time, her conscience 
began to recoil at them, as being a proof of the in- 
bred corruption of her nature, of which before she 
had scarcely the most distant conception. She had 
' frequently been reflecting upon the native goodness 
of her heart, praising herself rather than God, that 
she was naturally so much better than the rest of 
mankind ; and wondered how a merciful God should 
permit her to be so afflicted, while many, so far her 
inferiors in all the principles' of virtue and morality, 
were prosperous. 



91 

Under these dark conceptions of her own heart, 
she would be arguing with Job in his unhumbled 
days, " that she was clean and without transgres- 
sion ; that she was innocent, and that there was 
no iniquity in her ; but that God yet found occasion 
against her, and counted her for his enemy." A 
very few reflections, however, of this sort, forced 
the penitential tear from her eye, and laid her 
humbled heart in the dust before God. Instead of 
" entering into judgment with God," she could now 
cry, " Enter not into judgment with thy servant, O 
Lord, for in thy sight shall no flesh living be justi- 
fied." 

At the sight of this, Mr. Lovely was not a little 
affected, as he greatly feared that these strong im- 
pressions might be attended with such consequences, 
that her delicate frame might sustain fresh injury 
thereby. After their return from church, they re- 
tired to a private seat in the pleasure ground for a 
short time before the dinner w r as placed on the table, 
and the following conversation took place. 



Mrs. Lovely. My dear, what a wonderful sermon 
we have been hearing this day ! If these things be 
true, I fear we are both wrong. 

Lovely. Wrong, my dear — How can we be wrong? 
What harm have we done ! If we are not right, the 
Lord have mercy upon thousands ! 

Mrs. Levely. Though I dare not say that I can 
accuse myself of any gross immoralities, yet you 
cannot conceive what proud, angry, and rebellious 
thoughts I have secretly had against God, during our 
affliction. I never had the most distant idea till this 
day; what an evil state we must be in, when such a 



92 

tribe of evil thoughts are to be found in our hearts : 
but I hope and I believe your heart is not so bad as 
mine. 

Lovely, O, my dear love, we must not suppose 
that the Almighty will eternally condemn us for a 
few bad thoughts : you know that " his mercies are 
over all his works," and that " he will not be ex- 
treme to mark iniquity." 

Mrs. Lovely. O, no; it is not that I fear I shall 
be eternally condemned for my bad thoughts; but I 
find and feel myself such a sinner because I have 
them. Why should I for a moment have harboured 
such evil conceptions against God, when he so justly 
punishes me as a sinner, and still so mercifully pu- 
nishes me for my good ? In what a fine manner Mr. 
Lovegood explained that text, " Whom the Lord 
loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every one whom 
he receiveth." But did you ever see such a serious 
and devout congregation before ? No wonder that 
even the public house shouid have been so reformed 
under such an excellent minister. And what a 
charming family the Worthy s are, and how truly 
pious. I am afraid we cannot say we are like them. 
- — I am sure, I am not. 

Lovely. O, my dearest Ann, I am much afnid lest 
your unjust notions against the native purity and good- 
ness of your heart should so perplex you, as to de- 
prive you of all the consolation you have a right to 
claim "to yourself. But however you may think of 
Mr. Lovegood's sermon, it by no means struck me 
as being so super-excellent. First, I have no great 
opinion of your extemporaneous preachers. I can 
very readily give up aii these for the sake of hearing 
a minister upon some good grave moral subject, who 
has properly and carefully corrected his sermon be- 
fore he preaches it. And then I think what he said 
had rather a tendency to make the Almighty a hard 



93 

task -master. He certainly is a man of ability, and 
I don't doubt but that he has a very good heart, and 
I dare say his stern way of preaching has done a great 
deal of good among the common people; but in one 
part of his sermon he seemed to preach to us as if 
we were all a pack of heathens.. 

Mrs. Lovely. To be sure, he made some very 
strong remarks in shewing what a great difference 
there is between Christianity as it is revealed in the 
Bible, and as it is practised by the people of the 
world ; but I cannot help thinking there was a deal of 
truth in what he said. I fear lest I should be found, 
after all, nothing better than a mere " whited sepul 
chre," in the sight of God. 

Lovely. My dear creature, how can you for a 
moment admit such a preposterous thought ! I won- 
der you can so overlook your own goodness : though 
I am quite delighted with Mr. Worthy's hospitality, 
yet I am very sorry that Mr. Lovegood ? s sermon 
should have left such a strange impression on your 
mind ; and I am sure such dreary notions against 
yourself are not only the most inconsistent and ..un- 
just; but, I fear also, lest they should so prey upon 
your thoughts, as to be injurious to your constitu- 
tion, uniess you can muster up proper resolution to 
resist them. Will you allow me, my dearest life, to 
request you not to think of going to church again 
this afternoon ? You could scarcely bear the crowd 
which was there this morning: ycu were ■' almost 
ready to faint half the time ; and I am sure his no- 
tions in religion will never do for you : at least, in 
my opinion, you have unhappily misapplied them, 

Mrs. Lovely. I thank you very kindly for your ad- . 
vice: but what shall 1 do ? If I grieve'you by again - 
going to church, I fear I shall as much grieve'and 
perplex my own mind in staying at home. 

Lovely. Q } mv dear, Til stay at home with you 5 

I 2 



94 

and read some of the Saturday's papers of the 
Spectator ; you know they are all upon moral sub- 
jects ; or one of Dr. Blair's sermons, if Mr. Worthy 
has got them. 

Mrs. Lovely. Indeed, my dear, I never could read 
either in those papers, or in Blair's sermons, any 
thing like so interesting as what I have heard this 
day from Mr. Lovegood. I think you a little mis- 
understand him : perhaps when you have heard him 
again, you may be better pleased with him. With 
your leave, I am exceedingly desirous to hear him a 
second time ; but if I should grieve you by acting 
against your kind advice, it will equally be the cause 
of grief to me. 

During this short conversation, the dinner-bell 
summoned them into the parlour, to the family 
meal, which, on a Sunday, at Brookfield hall, is 
very plain, but plentiful : and served at an early 
hour, that their second attendance on divine service 
might not be interrupted. During the meal, Mr. 
and Mrs. and the eldest Miss Worthy, who of late 
had become very serious, made such remarks on the 
sermon as were widely different from those dreary 
notions of real religion which Mr. Lovely began, 
from misconception, to entertain.. He discovered 
that Sunday, at Brookfield Hall, though the most 
solemn, was the happiest day of all the seven ; and 
that they could quote different passages of the ser- 
mon which they heard from their excellent mini- 
ster with supreme approbation and delight. This 
staggered his prejudices, though it did not remove 
them. Soon after dinner the cheerful voice of praise 
was heard at a distance from the children of the 
Sunday school, who were kindly accommodated with 
Mr. Worthy's laundry, as a school room. This at 
once attracted the ear of Mrs. Lovely ; and, after 
some enquiries were made respecting that instiiu- 



95 



tion, she looked at her husband, and dropt a tear. 
He, seeing the agitation of her spirits, requested 
her to walk out, and the conversation on the same 
subject thus recommenced. 



Mrs. Lovely. Will you, my dear, indulge me 
with the privilege of attending at church again this 
afternoon? Surely the religion which makes this ex- 
cellent family so happy can never make us misera- 
ble. When I heard the song of praise from the voices 
of those, poor children, how did I wish that I could 
but transform myself into one of their number, that I 
might attend again at church without grieving you ! 

Lovely. You know that my advice is from the 
purest principles of affection ; but if you cannot be 
happy unless you again go to church, I shall say 
no more. Only, my dearest creature, for my sake 
and your own sake, be on your guard that Mr. 
Lovegood's harsh doctrine may not injure your health, 
I cannot bear to hear you call yourself " a whited 
sepulchre," and that you should have such unjust no- 
tions of the supposed badness of your heart, when I 
am sure you have given sufficient evidence that it is 
so virtuous and good ; and, indeed, I think we have 
neither of us been so remiss in any part of our duty, 
as to be registered among the most unworthy and 
negligent of mankind. 

Mrs. Lovely. I am afraid, if we have been atten- 
tive to the lesser duties between man and man, we 
huve been too remiss in the still more important 
duty, required of us in our love and service of God. 
Can't you . remember that was one of Mr. Love- 
good's observations during the sermon ? 

Lovely. Now, upon this principle alone it is I 
ground my objection against your attendance. I 
confess the Worthy s are a very cheerful and happy 



96 

family ; but, however Mr. Lovegood's notions may 
do them no harm, yet as your afflictions have much 
sunk your spirits, his strong notions of religion may 
not be so suitable to you as to them ; and this makes 
jne think, notwithstanding their kindness, that our 
visit to this place, for your sake, must be short ; as 
I fear these new dreary sentiments respecting your- 
self may hurt your health. 

Mrs. Lovely. Oh, my dear, with your leave I 
hope we shall continue here, at least, for a few days, 
according to the most hospitable and affectionate in- 
vitation of the family. Indeed it would be quite rude 
to do otherwise ; it would look as though we had 
taken some disgust, while at the same time their, 
kindness is inexpressible. And did you not mind 
what a heaped dishful of slices of bread and meat 
was sent out to these poor children? And Mrs. 
Worthy told me, that it was the constant custom 
to cut up a large joint, and some other fragments, 
that each child might have his Sunday's repast as 
w ell as his schooling : and 1 am told that the chil- 
dren and all their parents are brought into the 
laundry every Monday evening, and examined and 
instructed by Mr. Lovegocd ; and that once a quar- 
ter he has them publicly in the chinch, and makes 
a sermon on purpose for them, and then afterwards 
gives ail the parents a id children a supper together, 
in the servants' hall. O, my dear, do let me beseech 
you to stop a few days in these parts, that we may 
know more of this excellent family ; and let us 
get acquainted with Mr. Lovegood. Mrs. Worthy 
says, he always dines at their house on the Monday, 
when he comes to instruct the children and their 
parents ; and she says, he is a cheerful man, though 
he is so very religious ; and, if ever your Uncle, or 
old Mr. Greedy, should leave you his fortune, we 
shall have plenty for our poor neighbours as well as 



97 

ourselves ; and I am sure we cannot meet with better 
instructors, how we should act for the good of others 
than as we take pattern from what is now before us. 

Lovely. How can you, my clear life, think your- 
self " a whited sepulchre, 55 when you are so full of 
charitable purposes and good designs ? 

Mrs. Lovely. O, it is on account of the intermix- 
ture of evil I still feel. I am ashamed to say what I 
feel. Why should I have such bad thoughts ! But 
the bells are ringing for church. I seem quite revived 
at the thoughts, that your objections are removed ; 
for you cannot but have observed the most pleasant 
conversation of the family, and the creditable, com- 
fortable, orderly way in which they live. Surely the 
religion, which has done them so much good, can 
never do us any harm. O, do, my dear George, O, 
do, let me go to church, and let me request you to 
come with me ! 

Lovely. My dear, you quite disarm me, and while 
I submit, I confess I rather go with you to guard you 
against some mistaken impressions which you have 
already imbibed, than by shewing my approbation 
of your zeal However, I'll go with you, having 
already fortified my own mind against all the wrong , 
notions we heard this morning : I have only to re- 
quest you for your own peace, — :Be upon your 
guard. 



After this conversation they immediately returned, 
and went to church with the family. Mr. Lovegood 
on that afternoon, preached a more awiul sermon 
than usual, on the parable of the Ten Virgins ; ob- 
serving what a remarkable similarity subsisted for a 
while between such as were wise, and others who 
were Foolish, till the day of trial made known the 
difference between them. That the lamp of a pro- 



98 

fession may give a splendid light for a while, but at 
length it may go out in everlasting darkness. That 
the grace of God may be so nearly imitated by natu- 
ral gifts and outward advantages, as that many per- 
sons may " have a name to live and yet be dead." 
He first mentioned some who might have u the 
form of godliness and deny the power." He asked 
his formal hearers if they had ever examined their 
hearts by that expression, " The power of God" 
He remarked its emphatic meaning, — how different 
from a mere mechanical form ! that though he by no 
means condemned forms of prayer, for that we had 
them in our psalms and hymns, and in the word of 
God itself; yet, that these would not cover the sin 
of those who were merely formal in prayer. That the 
best and most spiritual forms of prayer, if not of- 
fered up from a heart which was spiritual, were but 
an abomination : for that God thus complained of 
his own Israel : " This people djraweth near to 
me with their lips, while their hearts are far from 
me." He observed further on the same subject, 
that forms of prayer could never create, though they 
might lead, devotion : and that as we advanced in 
the spiritual life, we should be constrained to extend 
the wings of devotion, and not merely confine cur- 
selves to such directories, as once we needed, in the 
earlier part of the divine life : but that as our spirits 
" grew up into God in all things," we should find 
that the fervor of holy prayer would require to be 
released from the cold and frigid business of a form; 
especially when we retired into the closet, that we 
might " pray with all prayer and supplication in 
the spirit." 

.: He then discoursed on reading the Bible ; at- 
tending public worship, and frequenting the Lord's 
table ; shewing that as these were the means of grace 
we might expect good from them ; yet, that it was 



99 

possible to give a very diligent attendance on all 
these things in a formal customary manner with our 
lips, without the oil of grace: that the question was 
not so much what we did, but that we should examine 
the motive why we did it : that the true worship- 
pers of God, whose services were acceptable, were 
only they who " worshipped God in spirit and in 
truth." He then made some remarks on a living 
faith which ever united to Christ, and by which 
union alone " the oil of grace" w r as communicated 
to our hearts, and distilled itself throughout all our 
actions : that a mere dead faith made a professor ; 
but, that it was a living faith that made a possessor of 
the grace of God in deed and in truth. 

He next went on the business of rectifying another 
mistake, that " the oil of grace" consisted in our 
being blessed with good natural dispositions. He 
observed, that even among the brutes, though of 
the same kind, some of them had their good dispo- 
sitions, and proved naturally manageable and kind, 
while others of them were sulky and perverse ; and 
that this mere diversity of disposition w r as equally 
conspicuous in the human race ; and, consequently, 
a mere good disposition, how r ever excellent in its 
place, which might be found in a brute, as well as 
in- the human race, could never be called " the oil 
of grace ; " That these sweet-blooded sinners were too 
frequently found among the most negligent and pro- 
fane before God ; yet, in their way, affectionate and 
kind towards others of their fellow sinners, while all 
of them were equally at a distance from the holy 
spiritual mind belonging to those who are truly " in 
Christ Jesus." 

Having thus warned his hearers against supposing 
that a mere good disposition, however good in its 
place, was of the nature of divine grace, he next 
shewed that a life of the strictest morality might 

L.«f or 



100 

exist when " the oil of grace" was still wanting. — 
Mr. Lovegdod boldly said, that an Atheist might be 
a moral maa as well as a Christian*; and, that the 
morality of most men was in general little better 
than negative, consisting much more in what people 
did not do, than in what they really did : and that 
any man, from self-interested motives, would, for 
the sake of his own ease and comfort, attend to the 
common rules of morality, as all those who violated 
them were guilty of the grossest acts of f Uy against 
their own interest. That a man of unjust and knav- 
ish principles was sooner or later sure to suffer for 
his own folly. That the man of passion and re- 
venge would certainly entail much greater suffer- 
ings on himself than what others had felt from him, 
by the mad violence of his anger.. In short, if a 
man did but consult his own health or interest, he 
would be moral : and that, however highly advan- 
tageous a strict attention to the rules of morality 
would prove to the good of society, yet, that real 
Christians, who were blessed with the " oil of 
grace," had much higher motives to go by T than 
such as were to be found among mere moralists. 
On these things, he afterwards so well expatiated, 
that it puzzled Mr. Lovely's mind not a little : on 
the one hand, he felt himself half angry, hat ail his 
religious props were knocked from under him, while 
he found it a considerable difficulty to deny the 
truth of what he had heard. Bui when he perceived, 
that Mrs. Lovely was still more seriously impressed 



* It is probable Mr. Lovegood borrowed this expression from a fa- 
mous charge, the present bishop of St. Asaph deliver*, d, when bishop of 
St. David's : it is possible also, that his lordship may know, that even a 
professedly Christian bishop may be less than moral, as well as an Athe- 
ist; witness many of the bishops of Rome. The conclusion, therefore, 
is, that such a man, notwithstanding his zeal, and the high office he may- 
fill in the Christian Church, is, not only less than a Christian, but worse 
than an Atheist, 



101 

under a further discovery of her defective righte- 
ousness, and began again to express the anxiety of 
her mind, after her second return from church, how 
much both of them had fallen short of the sacred 
standard of real Christianity ; he was still more 
highly incensed against the harsh doctrine of Mr. 
Lovegood, which had so discomposed the mind of 
his dearest Ann. Even the blessed tears of repent- 
ance, as they trickled from her eye, pierced him to 
the heart, while he heard with astonishment that 
one of so pure a mind, in his esteem, should still ac- 
knowledge herself such an unworthy sinner in the 
sight of God. Matters, however, thus passed till 
the next day. The reader is therefore requested to 
suspend his curiosity till the morrow ; and, after a 
night's rest, the subject will be resumed. 



Vol. II. 



102 



DIALOGUE XXII. 



BETWEEN THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS, 
MR. LOVEGOOD, AND THE LOVELYS. 



THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
FROM THE BOOK OF JOB. 

ON the morrow, Mr. Lovegood attended on his 
customary visit. Mr. Worthy having intro- 
duced his guests to each other, it was observable, 
that Mr. Lovely received the address of Mr. Love- 
good with a degree of coldness and formality, very 
contrary to that which belonged to the natural sweet- 
ness of his disposition : and after dinner the follow- 
ing conversation took place. [Mrs. Lovely appears 
rather fainty and weak. ] 

Lovely. 1 told you, my dear, that going to church 
yesterday afternoon would be too much for you. 
£ To Mr. Lovegood."] And, sir, I must be free to tell 
you, that your doctrine is too severe and harsh for 
my delicate and tender wife ; though I am sure, sir, 
you mean it for the best, and I should be glad, if all 
the clergy followed your good example. 

Loveg. Indeed, sir, it was not my design to have 
advanced any thing that was improperly harsh and 
severe ; and if I have been guilty of such a mistake, 
I wish to be opeil to conviction, and shall be quite 
ready to retract it. 

Lovely. Why, Sir, you must allow me the liberty 
to say, I never heard any Divine but yourself make 



103 

so free with the character of Job, as you did in 
your morning sermon ; certainly he was a very holy 
man. 

Loveg. Dear sir, did I in any wise deny it? though 
for a while he had such strange apprehensions and 
misconceptions of God. 

Lovely. Sir, Dr. Nescience *, the minister of our 
parish, gave us a very different character of the 



* Learned men should have learned names. No wonder then that Dr. 
Nescience has his name from a Latin derivation, though in plain English, 
Dr. Know-nothing ; all my other names I believe my readers can pretty 
well comprehend without understanding Latin. A facetious old clergy- 
man, Dr. Burton, Vice provost of Eton, when I was at that school; 
par sed some neat sarcasms upon a person of a very ignorant and pedantic 
character, recommending him to an uncle of mine, as being a gentleman 
of great nesc'ence. The person began bowing and scraping ; supposing 
the Doctor had passed upon him some very high compliment ; the Doc- 
tor, therefore, heightened the compliment, by observing, that he could 
not say too much of him on thar subject ; for that he knew him to be a 
man of great Nescience, of 'very great Nescience indeed; and nothing fur- 
ther was discovered oy the pedant, ihan that the highest compliment w T as 
passed upon him j and, it is probable, our present Doctor was one of the 
same family. 

Dr. Nescience, it seems, procured his Doctor's degree, not from his 
own University at Cambridge, where, had he made such an atttmpf, his 
knowledge had been well sif L ed, and his ignorance thoroughly exposed : 
from Cambridge therefore he received no higher honour, than thar of the 
first degree of a Bachelor of Arts : but he came at his Doctor ship by a 
much shorter cut, from one of the famous Universities in the North of Scot- 
land ; and in order rhat he might obtain this high literary honour, ? testi- 
monial of his learning being needed, this he procured to be signed by three 
reverend gendemen of the same redoubtable order of Doctors ; Dr. Num- 
scull, Dr. Papscull, and Dr. Loggerhead. 

This information, however, as it respects Dr. Nescience, and by what' 
means he obtained the high honour of being called the Doctor, reflects not 
the least discredit on Dissenters, nor yet on some others cf real erudition, 
where there are unhappy barriers in their way, to procure such degrees 
in a more creditable line ; but Dr. Nescience, and the rest of his frater- 
nity of the same order, have found out this, as the ready way to look big, 
with a little, or even no learning. Before he procured his degree, he was 
denominated the Utile Rector ; but now he found himself upon the pe- 
destal of this Scotch Diploma, he had the satisfaction of being called the 
little Doctor ; and the satisfaction, also, of several sharp curtain lectures 
from his wife ; this famous honour having cost him not less than £10. 
She oftentimes reminding him, for his extravagance, of the old proverb, 



104 

life of Job, when he preached upon that text, " My 
righteousness I hold fast, and will not let it go ; my 
heart shall not reproach me, as long as I live." The 
Doctor told us, that it was his own righteousness 
which was his confidence, and that thereby he ob- 
tained the reward of heaven, 

Mrs. Lovely. But you know, my dear, neither you 
nor I have any great opinion of the little Doctor or 
his curate, Mr. Flimsey: we have both observed, 
while they seem to be aiming at something, they can 
make nothing out of it. But don't you think you 
have a little misunderstood Mr. Lovegood ? [To Mr. 
Lovegood'] Sir, it might be much to the satisfac- 
tion of myself and my husband, if you would explain 
yourself more fully on that subject. 

Loveg. Dear sir, there is no doubt of the integrity 
and uprightness of Job : but while he was righteous, 
he was also self-righteous. There was his crime ; 
and this rendered him proud and angry before God. 

Lovely. Proud and angry — Why, was not he the 
most patient man upon earth ? 

Loveg. Yes, sir, but his great patience awfully 
failed him, till, by divine mercy, it was restored. 
We have proof enough of this, when notwithstand- 
ing his very deep afflictions during the seven days 
and nights he passed in meek and holy submission, 
under the deepest afflictions, he afterwards could 
curse the day in which he was born. If you read 
that chapter, sir, you will be as much struck at his 
rebellion at one time, as at his patience at another. 

A fool and his money are soon parted ; he contrived, however, in a measure, 
to quiet her mind, under the idea that the loss of the money would soon be 
recovered, as he was going to turn author, by re-publishing three famous 
novels ; Tom Thumb, Jack the Giant Killer, and Old Mother Goose's 
Tales. These he meant to enrich with certain annotations, lucubrations, 
and remarks of his own composing ; and he had no doubt but that his 
Doctor's degree would wonderfully quicken the sale of the publication. 



105 

Lovely. But if he did wrong in this, yet in other 
respects he was doubtless a very righteous man. 

Loveg. Certainly so, sir; and, before man, no one 
had a greater rierht to vindicate himself against the 
accusations of his three friends, who certainly mis- 
took his case : they concluded him, very unjustly, to 
be an arrant hypocrite, and that God had detected 
him, and therefore he was severely punishing him 
for his crimes. As far as human righteousness went, 
he might venture to say, u he would hold it fast, 
and would not let it go ;" and no doubt, but that 
with the greatest justice he could further add, as it 
respected the great and upright character he sustained; 
u When the ear heard me, then it blessed me ; and 
when the eye saw me, it gave witness unto me ; be- 
cause I delivered the poor that cried, and the iather- 
less, and him that had no helper; the blessing of 
him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I 
caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. I put on 
righteousness, and it clothed me, and my judgment 
was as a robe and a diadem : I was eyes to the/blind, 
and feet was L to the lame. I was a father to the poor,, 
and the cause which I knew not I searched out" 

Lovely. Why, sir, was it possible for any one to 
do more to deserve the character of a righteous man, 
than he did? Could he be a good man and a bad vadn 
at the same time, sir ? I cannot think we are called 
to renounce our .integrity., 

Wori. Really, sir, you and I have been stumbling 
upon the very same " stone of stumbling, and rock 
of offence;" I was as proud as ever Job was, of my 
righteousness., when I only looked at the surface of my 
character, as it appeared: before man; audi tuo.ught 
Mr. Lovegood brought strange thingii to my cars, 
when I heard him asiert, from the Bible, that ■" there 
was none righteous, no not one. 5 ' 

Loveg\ :&ir, Job did not know how much he scl 

K2. 



106 ' 

of the latent Pharisee in his heart, whereby he was 
led to " trust in himself, that he was righteous," 
like the Pharisees of old, though in other respects 
he was by no means of their hypocritical cast. 

Lovely. Why, how can another be righteous for 
us? 

Loveg. Dear sir, you do not understand me ; he 
was rather led to applaud the goodness of his own 
heart on account of these things, while he forgot to 
give glory to him, " from whom all holy desires, all 
good counsels, and all just works, do proceed : " * or, if 
you please, to give it you in other words, it shculd 
appear that he was more bent upon trusting in his own 
righteousness, than in God who made him righteous; 
for, respecting the best of men, it may be said, 
as Eliphaz replied to Job, " What is man that he 
should be clean ; and he that is born of a woman, 
that he should be righteous ? Behold he putteth no 
trust in his saints ; yea, the heavens are not clean in 
his sight. How much more abominable and filthy is 
man, which drinketh in iniquity like water?" And 
again, " Can man be profitable unto God, as he that 
is wise may be profitable unto himself? Is it any 
pleasure to the Almighty that thou art righteous ; 
or is it gain to him, that thou makest thy way per- 
fect ? "j Nor can we conceive a more striking query 
than that which we find in the same book. " How 
can man be justified with God ; and how can he be 
clean that is born of a woman? Behold, look even 
to the moon, and it shineth not : yea, the stars are 
not pure in his sight ; how much less man that is a 
worm, and the son of man that is a worm?" J 

Lovely. But, really, sir, though I confess I am no 
divine, don't you think that Job's friends went too far 
in speaking against the merit of his righteousness? 

* Common Prayer Book. + Job xxii. 2, 3. % Job xr?. 4, 5, & 



lor 

Loveg. I have already said, that they went much 
too far, while they accused him of hypocrisy and 
wickedness; yet we shall find that God himself ter- 
minated the controversy, by shewing Job, not only 
the folly of the supposed merit of his righteousness, 
but also the sinfulness of those proud thoughts, which 
must be brought down, as it were, by force of arms. 
Do, sir, let me remind you of that passage in St. Paul 
to the Corinthians : " For the weapons of our war* 
fare are not carnal, but mighty through Gcd, to the 
pulling down of strong holds ; casting down imagi- 
nations, (or vain reasonings,) and every high thing 
that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and 
bringing into captivity every thought unto the obedi- 
ence of Christ." 

Lovely. Sir, these are very strong words; are you 
sure you have quoted them correctly? though, I dare 
say, you have done so to the best of your recollec- 
tion. 

Loveg. I believe, sir, I am perfectly exact ; but 
while we further investigate the book of Job, I will 
consult my pocket Bible, and we shall then go on 
certain ground. 

Mrs. Lovely. Did I not tell you, my dear George, 
that Mr. Lovegood could well explain himself on 
these points ? you see how he makes the Bible his 
constant study. 

Lovely. My dear, I am quite ready to hear what 
Mr. Lovegood has to say, though I much fear lest 
his religion should do you harm. 

Loveg. [ With his Bible in his hand.~\ Dear sir, the 
religion of this book can never do us any harm ; and 
if you w 7 ill allow me to continue my observations on 
the book of Job, that should be first noticed which is 
said in the beginning of the thirty-second chapter 
of that book: " So these three men ceased to 



108 

answer job, because he was righteous in his own 
eyes;" and Elihu being sent of God to settle the 
controversy, thus charges Job for his presumptuous - 
thoughts before God. " Surely thou hast spoken 
in mine hearing, and I have heard the voice of thy 
words, saying, I am clean without transgression; I am 
innocent ; neither is there iniquity in me. Behold, 
he findeth occasion against me; he counteth me for 
his enemy. He putteth my feet in the stocks, he 
marketh all my paths. Behold, in this thou art not 
just: I will answer thee, that God is greater than 
man. Why doest thou strive against him ? for he 
giveth not account of any of his matters ?"* In the 
thirty-fourth chapter, also, we find him reproved 
for die same sort of pride and rebellion : " Job hath 
said, I am righteous, and God hath taken away my 
judgment. What man is like Job, who drinketh up- 
scorning like water ? who goeth in company, (at 
least in his conversation,) with the workers of ini- 
quity, and walketh with wicked men. For he hath 
said, it profiteth a man nothing, that he should de- 
light himself with God." So that Elihu is, as it 
were, obliged to vindicate the cause of God against 
the profane suggestions of Job, by saying, " Far be 
it from God, that he should do wickedness, and from 
the Almighty that he should commit iniquity : yea, 
surely God will not do wickedly, neither will the 
Almighty pervert judgment ; for that Job had spoken 
without knowledge, and his words were without 
wisdom." It is the desire therefore of Elihu, " that. 
Job may be tried unto the end, because of his an- 
swers for wicked men : for he addeth rebellion unto 
his sin, and clappeth his hands against us, and mill- 
tiplieth his words against God. ?> 

Mrs. Lovely. See, my dear, how plainly Mr. 
Lovegood makes it out what sinners we all are,, on 
account of such wicked thoughts. 

* Job xxxiii. S— 3JL 



109 

Lovely. Why, I confess, the subject never struck 
me in this light so forcibly before; but I am un- 
willing to give up the point even yet : I wish to take 
some time to consider for myself ; and, with Mr- 
Lovegood's leave, to consult with other divines on 
the subject. 

Loveg. By all means, dear sir, truth never suffers 
by investigation. But even in the next chapter you 
will find a deal more of the same proud language 
charged on Job, as uttered against God. " Thou saidst 
(said he) my righteousness is more than God's;" 
therefore he adds, " What advantage will it be to 
me, and what profit shall I have if I be cleansed 
from my sin?" FJihu, therefore asks Job the ques- 
tion, " If thou be righteous, what givest thou him ; 
or what receiveth he at thine hand ? Thy wicked- 
ness may hurt a man as thou art, and thy righteous- 
ness may profit the son of man :" thus, he concludes, 
that " Job opened his mouth in vain, and multi- 
plied his words without knowledge." And, sir, if 
I have not tired you with the number of my quota- 
tions, you may see further what was the design of 
God in this controversy with Job, " that he might 
withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride 
from man ;" he therefore humbled him by sickness, 
and a variety of the most severe dispensations in pro- 
vidence, that he might further be convinced of the 
sinfulness of his heart ; for " If any man say I have 
sinned, and perverted that which was right, and it 
profiteth me not ; he will deliver his soul from go- 
ing into the pit, and his life shall see the light ; for 
all these things worketh God oftentimes with man, 
to bring back his soul from the pit, and to be en- 
lightened with the light of the living." How wise 
and applicable was therefore the advice of Elihu? 
Surely, it is meet to be said unto God, " I have 
borne chastisement, I will not offend any more ; 



that which I see not, teach thou me : if I have done 
ink] u it y, I will do so no more." 

Wor. Indeed, Mr. Level v, I think vou would 
find it truly profitable, if you would attend a little 
more closely to the experience of Job. The speech 
of Elihu always struck me, as containing some of 
the most strong and conclusive arguments against 
the proud and vain conceit that any of us can be 
righteous before God. What arguments he de- 
duces from the purity of God, the infinity of his 
wisdom, the dignity and majesty of his existence, 
to shew man the emptiness and folly of all he does, 
and to lay him in the dust, that he may be sensible 
what a poor unprofitable creature he is in every 
point of view, and that " in his best estate, he is al- 
together vanity." 

Lovely. But, did not God, after all this, turn the 
captivity of Job, and make the latter end of his life 
more glorious than the former, as a proper reward 
for ins integrity, humility, and patience ? 

jLoveg\ No, verily, my good sir, God never gave 
him a reward for his goodness ; though he merci- 
fully restored him by his mere grace and forgiving 
love, even alter all the hard and presumptuous 
thoughts he had uttered against him : but not till 
after he had cast him down from the hfgh pinnacle 
of his pride, into the valley of humiliation, where 
we all, either sooner or later, must be brought to 
lie. .And there, it you read with attention that most 
instructive and remarkable histon r , you will find 
how God himself condescended to deal with him,, 
till he made him to lie in the dust, and then he was 
first constrained to cry, " Behold I am vile; what 
shall I answer thee ? I will lay my hand upon my 
mouth : once have I spoken, but I will not an- 
swer; yea, twice; but I will proceed no further." 
And let me request you to consider the solemn con- 



Ill 

elusion of the controversy: ci I have heard of thee 
by the hearing of the ear ; but now mine eye seeth 
thee. Wherefore, I abhor myself, and repent in 
dust and ashes." 

Worthy. My dear Mr. Lovely^ I have heard Mr. 
Lovegood frequently remark what a mistaken book 
this has been, among all those who have not been 
sufSciently attentive to this blessed portion of holy 
writ ; and that no part of the word of God can be 
better calculated to humble the pride of man, and to 
produce in us a deep sense of our own unworthiness : 
so as that we may be brought to accept salvation , 
where alone it can be found, in the person of our 
blessed Saviour, who lived and died to justify the 
ungodly. 

Mrs. Lovely. O my dear, sure you must be con- 
vinced what Mr. Lovegood and Mr. Worthy have 
been saying is all true : as to myself, I must confess 
what a proud, blasphemous, and rebellious wretch 
I have been. O, that the Lord, for Christ's sake, 
would have mercy upon me ! [ She drops a tear. ] 

Mr. Lovely. [To Mr. Lovegood.'] Sir, I must re- 
quest you to drop this subject ; you see my wife can- 
not bear it ; her mind is much too tender to sustain 
the shock of your harsh religion; besides, sir, I can- 
not admit the doctrines you have advanced, till I 
have examined matters more closely for myself : 
[to Mr. Worthy.'] and I believe, sir, with your leave, 
it will be necessary for my wife to recreate her spirits 
by a short walk in your pleasure ground. 



They accordingly submit, and the parties retire. 
Between the Lovelys, the conversation took the 
same turn as before : he continuing to plead the ne- 
cessity of her non-attendance on Mr. Lovegood's 



112 

ministry, for the sake of her health ; and she repeat- 
ing her most anxious wishes to hear more of those 
things, which, though they had forced some tears 
from her eyes, yet she was satisfied were well cal- 
culated to do infinite good to her heart. Mr. Love- 
ly still finding it necessary to submit to her impor- 
tunate desires, they returned, and attended with 
the rest of the family to the meeting of the poor 
children. Mr. Lovegood's method with the chil- 
dren was at all times the most tender and engaging ; 
but, now% in his exhortation, especially as he had 
found a poor child that had lately been impressed 
under the evil of sin, he made it a point to bring 
forward, in sweet abundance, those precious pro- 
mises of the Gospel, which might be best calcu- 
lated to cheer the heart of Mrs. Lovely, under the 
new discovery of her sinful state ; and this had so 
far the defied effect, that the gloomy apprehen- 
sions of Mr. Lovely again, in a measure, seemed to 
subside, and a degree of cheerfulness took place, 
which continued through the evening of the day. 

Mr. Lovely's mind, however, continued to be so 
exercised upon the subject, that he was not only 
determined to dispute every inch of ground with 
Mr. Lovegood ; but provide himself with such ma- 
terials as he conceived would be best calculated to 
make him a successful combatant. He accordingly 
went the next morning to Mapleton, and enquired 
where there wasabook-seilerVshop; he was recom- 
mended of course to Mr. Wisehead ; and asked him 
if he had any books of good sound divinity ? Mr. 
Wisehead would have put into his hands many of 
the books of the modern Socinians, and, among 
others, he requested him to read zt few pages of 
Priestley on Necessity. Mr. Lovely then asked Mr. 
Wisehead if ihat was not an abridgement of Hobbs, 
Spinoza, and other infidel philosophers. Upon this 



113 

some conversation took place between Mr. Wise- 
head and Mr. Lovely, who was much more shocked 
at the horrid extremes of the Socinians, than ever he 
could be at the dreary notions of fylr. Lovegood. 
Finding, however, that he could make nothing out 
from this quarter, he next enquired about the mi- 
nister of the parish, whether he thought it would 
be deemed impertinent, if- he went to consult him 
as a divine. Mr. Wisehead observed, that he sup- 
posed Mr. Dolittle might give him a kind reception \ 
and that he was sure to find him at home, as he was 
but just recovering from a fall from his horse ; but 
that there was a Dr. Dronish, the dissenting minister, 
whom he attended, who was looked upon to be a 
very able and rational divine. Mr. Lovely thanked 
him for his information ; but that if the Dr. was an 
admirer of the same sort of divinity as was to be 
found in his shop, he had rather go the regular way 
to work, and consult the minister of the parish. 
Having thus resolved, he purchased nothing more 
than a flimsy sermon of Mr. Archdeacon Smooth- 
tongue's, shewing that all the austere texts in the 
Bible ought to be confined to primitive times, as 
they were not fit for the present day,, and took his 
leave of Mr. Wisehead, and resorted to Mr. Do- 
little's. 

He first introduced himself as a traveller ; men- 
tioned his kind entertainment at Mr. Worthy's, and 
then began telling him how his mind had been un- 
hinged and puzzled by the preaching of Mr. Love- 
good. Dolittle immediately interrupts, by say- 
ing, — " What did you go to hear that mad fellow 
for?" — "Sir," said Mr. Lovely, " I always love to 
go to the parish church of a Sunday ; and his divi- 
nity struck both me and my wife, as being, very 
different from what we commonly hear. I should 
be glad, sir, if you would but explain some matters 

Vol. II. L 



114 

to mc ; I come, with your leave to consult you as 
a divine. 55 — cc I explain matters! 55 says Belittle : 
" what have you to do with such abstruse notions 
in religion as he preaches ? You are not the first 
person that has had his brains turned by going after 
the ranting nonsense preached by that good-for-no- 
thing designing fellow. 5 5 — [Lovely adjoins:'] ' ' Why, 
sir, Mr. Lovegcod, in my opinion, is neither a mad 
man, nor a bad man ; but, I confess, I at least ex- 
pected a civil answer to a civil question. 55 — Doiittle 
answers; " Sir, to tell you the truth, when people 
come canting and talking about their souls, I always 
suspect they come with some design ; and I am sure 
they do if they come from that quarter. None of 
my parishioners ever come to me with such whining 
tales. I tell them their duty of a Sunday ; and if 
ihey practise it, that is enough for them ; and it 
will be enough for you : and so you may go away 
and mind your business ; for I expect, sir, you are 
upon the catch ; but you shall get nothing out of 
me. 55 This coarse reception was quite like a thun- 
der-clap to the mild and amiable Mr. Lovely, and 
made him glad to escape from the presence of the 
enraged Rector as fast as he could 

These rebuffs, however, did not damp the in- 
quisitive zeal of Mr. Lovely after truth ; and while 
he could start many objections against Mr. Love- 
good 5 s doctrines, yet he had some serious misgiv- 
ings that all might not be right notwithstanding. 
This visit, however, had this good effect ; the con- 
trast between the bluntness and ignorance of Rec- 
tor Doiittle, and the meek, humble, and affectionate 
conduct of Mr. Lovegood, made Mr. Lovely, after- 
wards, receive with greater candour and modera- 
tion whatever he had to advance on these important 
subjects. 

Another circumstance, however occurred, which 



115 

also gave a still more favourable turn to his prejudices. 
Though Mr. Merrvman had left Brookfield Hall, 
Oil the previous Saturday, yet he returned thither 
on the Wednesday. An attractive load-stone, in 
the person of Miss Worthy, was supposed to be 
the cause of these frequent communications; aiub 
the reader will have no reason to doubt, but that 
the result of this courtship will be as honourable, 
correct, and good, as the parties are themselves. 
There are few living, of a more amiable, pleasant, 
and excellent turn of mind, than Mr. Merryman, 
since he has known the grace of Gcd in truth ; 
^vhile every year, Mr. Lovegood has the uncommon 
satisfaction to see his beloved son in the gospel grow 
in tverj good word and work. 

No wonder that one of such amiable temper and 
manners soon stole into the good graces of the 
L jveiys. Mr. Lovely especially admired his great 
candour and liberality, in speaking about that wor- 
thy old clergyman Doctor Orderly, though he had 
been holding a long controversy with him on condi- 
tional justification; admiring that a difference in 
sentiment could not prevent him from speaking 
very largely of the Doctor's temper, diligent dis- 
charge of his duty, liberality and great attention to 
the poor ; that while his dignified priestly appear- 
ance would rather alarm them, yet his humble de- 
portment would still allure them ; that, by the very 
respectable regularity of his conduct, he had got the 
character, among others, of a precise old fool, and 
especially from the following circumstance, which- 
had recently taken place. 

While Mr. Sedate his curate, was on a visit at a 
distance, to see his friends, the doctor was unex- 
pectedly taken ill, when his presence was needed to 
attend the funeral of one who died of a mortifica- 
tion. A speedy interment being necessary, the Doc- 



116 

tor was in much perplexity to know who should 
perform this ofice; it was hinted to him that the 
Rev. Mr. Jackadandy, a neighbouring clergyman, 
would be glad to do that service for him. This the 
Doctor instantly resisted, saying he would sooner 
die than that the sacred offices of the church should 
suffer the disgrace of being performed by such cox- 
combs in divinity. The Doctor accordingly, dressed 
like an old woman, in his morning gown, with his 
handkerchief about his head, staggered out of his 
chamber and performed the office. * 

The reader will naturally suppose, that on the 
Wednesday evening lecture, Mr. Lovegood would 
avail himself of the assistance of Mr. Merrvman, and 
a previous hint having been given him respecting 
the state of the minds of Mr. and Mrs. Lovely, he 
preached a very appropriate sermon on the following 
text, — " Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all 
her paths are peace;" and all the family returned 
from the church serious, yet cheerful and happy. 
This gave Mrs. Lovely a further opportunity of ob- 
viating her husband's objection, as it respected the 
melancholy consequences of real religion. Mr. 
Merry man is always cheerful, and now she was 
cheerful too ; and though, at times, she would still 
drop the penitential tear ; yet, as she was in the way 
of hearing so much of these generous promises, 
which are so freely held forth in the word of God, 

* If the reader wishes for a further description of the race of these 
jftsm/o-spiritual monkies in holy orders, they are generally to be known by 
Uieir loose and vain affectation, especially in their dress. They are the 
fools of fashion ; and, as they now dress, you would rather suppose them 
to be a set of jockies in half-mourning. The present Mr. Jackadandy 
always appears stufted out with such an abundance of wadding about his 
neckcloth and collar, that he reminds you cf a pouting pigeon. His 
coat behind is cut quite short like a soldier's jacket, while he never ap- 
pears but in his short boots, over his coloured stockings, whisking about 
his little cane with amazing dexterity like a magic wand ; and as scon as 
the fashion changes, there is no doubt but that he will be the same dap- 



* . fir 

her mind seemed to be much more allured by the 
gospel, than alarmed by the law ; and this made 
Mr. Lovely less anxious to move his quarters. 

On the next evening* however, at family prayer, 
Mr. Merryman read the third chapter of the epistle 
to the Romans, which so decidedly settles the point 
of our justification, alone "through the redemption 
which is in Christ, 55 that Mr. Merryman supposed he 
had a right to say, some people were more in danger 
from their good works than their bad ones, if they 
were tempted to make them a matter of their confi- 
dence before God. 

After the family service, it appeared that this 
speech considerably offended the self-righteous views 
of Mr. Lovely. He thought it very add, that the 
Almighty should require nothing of us in point of 
justification; and that, if such sentiments were just, 
good people had no better chance for heaven than 
bad ones ; that, though we certainly ought, in a 
measure, to trust in our Saviour's merits, yet, it 
still seemed very strange to him, that nothing should 
be required of us to entitle ourselves to those merits. 
Thus the conversation on the same subject recom- 
menced, while Mr, Merryman very properly begged 
that the Bible itself, without any forced commentary 
whatever, might settle the point. The same -apos- 

per Jackadandy in the next extreme, ,should the jacket or coat grow into 
such a size as to be turned into a petticoat. 

One observation further, as it respects the furniture of ^he pates of 
these Jackadandys. Their studies are mostly confined 1:0 the paltry, loose 
periodical publications of the day 1 out of these they pick and cull dif- 
ferent passages, and these, with awkard impertinence, they retail as 
their own. As for the study of divinity, how far that claims any share 
of their attention is easily settled. When one of them, being under ex- 
amination for orders, was asked, Who is the mediator between God and 
man ? he profoundly answered, it was His Grace the Lord Archbishop of 
Canterbury- Can any one wonder that the grave and respectable Dr. 
Orderly should be so disgusted at such a Jackadandy, as not to permit; 
him even to bury the dead ? 

l 2 



tie was, therefore, referred to, to make good his 
own conclusion, that a man is justified by faith only 
without the deeds of the law : while Mr. Lovely was 
not a little surprised to find in the fourth chapter, 
that the justification of the person of Abraham was 
by faith only in the righteousness of Christ, which 
was accounted, reckoned, or imputed * to all them 
that believe ; and that the works of Abraham, as 
mentioned by St. James, were not to justify his per- 
son before God, but his faith before man ; because if it 
were otherwise to be interpreted, it would be utterly 
impracticable to reconcile St. Paul and St. James 
to each other ; and equally impossible ihat we could 
be justified by the faith of the Gospel only, as St. Paul 
declares, in order " that we may have peace with God 
through our Lord Jesus Christ." 

Thus the perplexity of Mr. Lovely was very con- 
siderable, while the conversation was highly satis- 
factory to the feelings of Mrs. Lovely, who almost 
shocked the formality of her amiable husband by 
saying, that all she did was intermixed with sin, and 
that she felt her need of mercy as much as the vilest 
.Magdalen on the earth. 

Mr. Lovely, however, finding, himself hard press- 
ed,, begged for quarter : he requested to know, as 
Dr. Orderly was such an excellent man, and seem- 
ed to be more of his way of thinking, whether he 
could not contrive so as to have an interview with 
him. The hospitable and friendly Mr. Merry man 
immediately observed, that he did not doubt it ; 
that he and the worthy Dr. were on very friendly 
terms ; and that, as his living was but about six 
miles from his house, he was sure the Dr. would treat 
him as a gentleman and a Christian. But as he was 
always much engaged in composing fresh sermons 
for his congregation, he did not love to be inter- 

* These three expressions are all the same in the original Greek- 



119 

rupted towards the latter end of the week ; that he 
could as yet give Mr. Lovely nothing better than 
bachelor's fare, though he hoped to see better days* 
(casting a wishful look at Miss Worthy) but that 
still he would do his best. 

This generous conduct and affectionate familiarity 
still more interested the LoveiyS in the favour of 
Mr. Merryman. A promise was given that they 
would make an excursion to Sandover ; the result of 
which will soon be communicated to the reader. 



12(P 



DIALOGUE XXIII. 



BETWEEN MR. WORTHY, MR. LOVEGOOD, FAR- 
MER LITTLEWORTH, HENRY, AND OTHERS. 



THE STORY OF MRS. CHIPMAN RESUMED. 

Containing an Account of the Return of Heiiry Lit- 
tie-worthy and the happy Death of Mr. Chapman. 

DURING the absence of the Lovelys, while on 
their visit to Mr. Menyman, Henry Littleworth 
returned. The result of this visit shall now be 
brought forward? 

Farmer Littleworth. [To his wife.] Why, Dame, 
here is old Nelly Trot, the letter-carrier; she has 
brought a letter from Mapleton, and it is from Har- 
ry. Dear child, I hope he is coming home. It ap- 
pears to me as if he had been gone a longful time. 
[To Miss Nancy.] Nancy, my child, pay the post- 
age, and give poor Nelly a cup of drink. 

Miss Nancy. Nelly, what does the letter come to ? 

Nelly. Eight-pence, Miss- 

Mrs. Littlew. Eight-pence! why, it is just double 
since this French war. 

- Farmer. Never mind, dame, the Lord be thanked ! 
better pay a few more taxes than be governed by 
JBonypart, and the French folk ; but, come in, and 
let us read the letter. [The Farmer puts on his 
spectacles and reads it.] 

" MY MOST DEAR FATHER, 

" Through the great. mercy of God, all the 
designs of my journey to Logksbury Have been 



121 

fully answered. Mr. Chipman resigned his sou! in- 
to the hands of God on Wednesday last. What 
blessed things he said during his sickness, and what 
a glorious end he made of it ! I was with him in 
the solemn moments of his departure. When he 
felt himself going he took me by the hand and 
kissed it, and then said, God bless you a thousand 
times for your attention to my precious souk I said 
to him, dear sir, you are just going i to be dissolved 
and to be with Christ;' then he stammered out, 
word after word, ' Our light afflictions, which are 
but for a moment, work out for us a far piore exceed- 
ing and eternal weight of glory. 5 Immediately he 
closed his eyes, appealed vzryjainty, squeezed my 
hand, and then said, 4 God is come ; 5 fetched a long 
siQ;h, and breathed no more. Mr. Reader was also 
standing at the- bed- side ; and when he perceived his 
son-in-law was going, fell down on his knees, and of- 
fered up a secret prayer ; and, after he found he was 
dead, while a plentiful shower of tears were running 
down his cheeks, he kissed his corpse, and said, 
■ Oh, that my poor unfortunate daughter should 
have been the death of that most worthy man. y Oh, 
my dear father, what scenes I have beheld since I left 
your house on this occasion ! but be sure don't tell 
Mrs. Chipman what Mr. Reader said when her hus- 
band died. And I think it will be best not to inform 
her of any thing about his death, till after my return, 
for then I can first tell her what a blessed state of mind 
he was brought into before he died, which may be 
the most likely way of preserving her heart from be- 
ing broken by the death of her husband, through her 
unfaithful conduct. 

" Oh my dear parents, how rejoiced I am, that 
my base conduct had not the same effects on you as 
Mrs. Chipman's elopement has had on her poor hus- 
band : and what a mercy it is, dear Father, that your 



122 



once profligate son should now be employed on an 
errand, in which he has had the honour of conveying 
the news of the same salvation he has felt on his own 
heart, to others that were once as ignorant, if not as 
wicked, as himself." 

[Here the Farmer takes off his spectacles, and 
weeps, and cries, " O this child, this sweet child ! 
see what the grace of God can do i The Lord be 
praised ! O what would I give, if Polly and Patty 
were but like my dear Hairy !"] 

Mrs. Littlcw. Master, your spirits are so affected, 
had I not better pour you out a glass of currant 
wine ? 

Far. No, I thank you, dame. Harry's iettter 
is but a short one, I'll read the rest of it. [The 
spectacles are again mounted, and the Farmer pro- 
ceeds with the letter.] 

" As the end of my coming to this place is now 
accomplished, and as I have already been above a 
month from home, I wish to return as soon as cir- 
cumstances will allow ; but Mr. Reader is so very 
anxious that I should stop over the funeral, and help 
him to settle his son's affairs, that I cannot resist 
his importunate request. I fear, therefore, I shall 
not be at home till next Friday, or Saturday se'n- 
night; though, indeed, if I were to stop in these parts * 
another Sabbath after the next, I think my patience \ 
would be quite exhausted. You cannot conceive, 
my dear Father, what a difference there is between 
the sermons of Mr. Fribble and Mr. Lovegocd. 
Blessed be God, I never was made so thankful for 
the preaching of the word of life, as since I have for 
a season been deprived of it. At times it quite af- 
fects me, that the people in these parts should hear 
no more of the Gospel, and sometimes hardly as 
much as might be expected from a mere Heathen 
philosopher,- As I hope, with the Lord's blessing. 



123 

to see you again so soon, I need only, for the present,, 
add, that, when you have time, it might not be 
amiss if you could ride down to Mr. Lovegood, and 
consult him about the' best plan of laying before 
Mrs. Chipman her family affairs : and in this, and in 
every concern, may the Lord give us wisdom and 
grace to act as shall be most consistent with his 
glory ! With my kind love to my sisters, and most 
affectionate duty to you, dear Father and Mother, 
I am, 

Your most dutiful and loving son, 

Henry Littleworth." 

The Farmer, according to his son's advice, went 
to Mr. Lovegood to consult him. Mr. Lovegood* 
was of opinion that Mr. Worthy would be glad still 
further to interest himself on this business. It was 
therefore agreed, that directly as Mr. Henry came 
home they should all go together to Brookfield Hall, 
and that Mr. Lovegood should give Mr. Worthy 
previous notice of their intentions. 

Henry returned on the Friday eve, as he men- 
tioned in his letter. We pass by ail the affectionate 
intercourse between his own relatives on his arrival, 
and record the conversation which took place on the 
Saturday morning, according to appointment. 



Farmer Littleworth, Henry, and Mr. Lovegood 
are introduced. 

Worthy. How do you all do ? Come in, Mr. Lit- 
tleworth, I wish you joy on your son's return. 

Farmer. Thank your honour; but it seems as if he 
had been gone for an age. Harry and I never loved 
one another as we do now, till we both were taught 
to love the Lord. \to Henry'] Jy'nt it so, mv dear 
child ? 



124 

Henry. Ah, father, I hope we shall both have 
eternal reason to bless God for his love. This sets 
all right between parents and children, and ail the 
world, if all was wrong before., 

Wor. Well, let us all sit down, and then Mr. 
Henry will inform us what passed at Loeksbury, that 
we may know how to act. 

Henry. Though I have already been telling my 
, father about matters ; yet, for the sake of your in- 
formation, sir, I had better relate things from the be- 
ginning. 

Wor. I wish you would, Mr. Henry. - By what 
we have heard from the letters vou sent to vour fa- 
ther, 1 expect it will be a very interesting narra- 
tion. 

Henry. Whw, sir, as soon as I came to Locks- 
bury, I first called on Mr. Reader, told him who I 
was, and on what errand I came, and then gave him 
Mr. Lovegood's letter, and the three books. While 
he read -the letter, he appeared very much affected in- 
deed; and after he had finished it, he cried, " What 
would I give to know the writer of this letter ! What 
a good man, and a good preacher he must be, to 
have wrought such a reformation on my poor daugh- 
ter ! And what a character Mr. Worthy must be, 
to take so ktnd a part on behalf of that unfortunate 
girl !" After some other conversation, he observed, 
\jo Mr. Lovegood'] that your notions in religion 
were till of late, widely different from his ; but that 
he conceived the reason was, that he had been much 
more engaged in studying the works of man, than 
the word 01 God. 

Loveg. After that declaration, I think you had 
better not have given him the bocks which were 
sent for his acceptance. 

Henry. Why, I could not do otherwise, as they 
were mentioned in. the letter ; but I said he was to 



125 

judge of those books, only by the word of God, and 
not of the word of God bv them. 

Wor. Did you go to see poor Mr. Chipman, the 
same day you had the first interview with Mr. 
Reader ? 

Henry. No, sir ; Mr. Reader said, after he had 
dismissed his school, he would prepare his son's mind 
for the visit on the next day. And so he took Mrs. 
Chipman's letter, and that which you, sir, [to Mr. 
.Lovegood,"] wrote to him, that,he might read them 
before I saw him. 

Loveg. This was a prudent step ; but what was 
the result ? 

Henry. O, sir, the condition poor Mr. Reader 
was in, on his return that evening, can never be 
expressed. He told me the grief of his son-in-law 
was so strong, that he could not leave the house 
till near midnight. Mr. Chipman's perpetual cry 
was, " Oh, that my dear Jemima had known Mr. 
Lovegood before she had met with that horrid pro- 
fiigate^ who seduced her !" — It was very affecting to 
see an old grey-headed man, crying, sobbing, and 
sighing, under such a calamity. 

Wor. After this, I suppose the next day you 
visited Mr. Chipman ? 

Henry. Yes, sir; but before we went to bed, I 
plucked up courage and said, " Sir, is it not time to 
go to family prayer? 55 He blushed exceedingly and 
thea answered, cc I generally pray by my self ';" and 
then added : " But if what Mr. Lovegood says be 
true, I fear I never prayed in all my Hie. " And being 
so young in years, and so much younger still in grace, 
I thought it would look too forward in me to pro- 
pose prayer myself. I am afraid I was once much 
more bold as a sailor, than I am now as a Christian. 
After this Mr. Reader shewed me to my bed, which 

Vol. IL M 



o 



126 

he had kindly provided for me, and tne next day I 
went and visited Mr. Chipman. 

Wor. Poor man ! and how did you find him ? 

Henry. ^ O, sir, there I saw one that was but a 
little while before a fine personable young man, 
literally dying of a broken heart, and reduced to a 
skeleton, in the last stage of a rapid consumption, 
with his hands twisted in each other, and his eyes 
running down with tears. Then he cried, " Oh ! 
that unfeeling wretch, who could take such a cruel 
advantage on my poor thoughtless wife ! What a 
treasure I once thought I possessed in her ! Well, 
well, I thank God that she is a penitent ; and the 
Lord make me a penitent too ! For though I have 
been kept from all outward acts of injustice between 
man and man ; yet now I see, by Mr. Lovegood's 
letters, and by some closer attention to my Bible, 
that I had need of mercy before God, as bad as 
if I had been the biggest reprobate upon earth. 5 ' 
And seeing them both so very humble, I took cou- 
rage, and asked them if I should go to prayer, and 
.they immediately consented. 

JLoveg. And how did they seem after prayer ? 

Henry. Oh, sir, all the time we were at prayer, 
poor Mr. Chipman did nothing but sob and cry, 
till I was almost as much overcome as himself; and 
Mr. Reader was quite as much affected as either of 
us. I humbly trust, sir, through the mercy of God, 
it was prayer indeed. 

Farmer. \To Mr. Lovegood.'] And what a mercy 
it is, that my dear child can make such a distinguish- 
ment between real prayer and sham prayer. The 
Lord be praised ! 

Loveg. Well, but Mr. Little worth, with your 
leave, we should be glad if your son would continue 
the story. 



127 . 

Henry. After prayer, I talked to them from my 
Own experience as well as I could ; what wicked 
hearts we all have, and how 7 we all sin, at least by 
our short-comings, every moment we live ; and 
then I went on telling them of the glorious salva- 
tion of. our blessed Redeemer, and the need there 
was that our hearts should be changed, or that we 
must be regenerate and made new creatures in Christ, 
before we could be taken to glory. And I remember 
it was just then, that Mr. Reader said, it was but 
the other day he thought it all nonsense to talk 
about a change of heart, if we were but moral ; but 
that now he shuddered at his own ignorance. 

Loveg. All this was blessed teaching. The first 
work of the Divine Spirit is to convince a man of 
sin : we know 7 nothing, till we know that " we are 
vile. 55 ~ 

Henry. Yes, sir, and Mr. Reader seemed to be 
convinced of this, for he said to me, " I seem to' 
have been doing ail my life, and have done nothing 
right after all. 55 

Loveg. Well, well ; this knowledge must have 
been not less profitable than it was painful. 

Henry. He even went so far as to say, that no- 
thing shocked him so much as what he once fancied 
was his righteousness. He was thoroughly con- 
vinced, that even his prayers were but mere farce 
and form ; and that, as of late he had been seriously 
reading over the Church Prayers, he now saw he had* 
been saying a thousand times with his lips, what he 
had never felt in his heart. 

Loveg. Nothing but a knowledge of our misery 
will ever prompt us to seek for mercy. How dif- 
ferent the language of Mr. Reader now, to what it 
was when our correspondence first commenced ! 
But as it seems by your letters to your father, the 
family would not let you leave them till after Mr. 



128 

Chipman's death, ycu can tell us further of the good 
man's experience before his departure. 

Henry. Why, sir, I first advised him to withdraw 
all his thoughts from the calamities he had suffered 
by the seduction of Mrs. Chipman, as all those tem- 
poral connexions would soon be dissolved by death. 

Loveg. That was good advice. Was he able to 
follow- it ? 

Henry. In a great measure he was. Mr. Reader 
and I went to see him every day, and sometimes 
oftener. He was never happy but when one of us 
was with him. Sometimes we went together ; and 
at other times we would take it bv turns. And 
when Mr. Reader was with him, as well as I could, 
I used to attend on his scholars ; for Mr. Chipman 
was always complaining of his ignorance, and beg- 
ging us to read to him, when his strength would in 
any measure enable him to attend. He in general 
used to engage his father to read out of Beveridge's 
Private Thoughts ; but when I was with him, he 
would scarce suffer me to take up any other book 
but the Bible. 

Wor. I suppose, to speak the truth, you could 
tell him the meaning of it a little better than his fa- 
ther ? 

Henry. Why, sir, I did it according to the best 
of my poor little ability ; but it is amazing what 
questions he would ask at one time, and what sur- 
prise he discovered at the plain reading of the word 
of God at another : and the nearer he drew to . his 
end, how delighted he seemed to be with the gra- 
cious promises of redemption and pardon through 
Jesus Christ, crying, "Nothing but mercy will now 
do for me." Then he mentioned those words in 
St. J ude, " looking for the mercy of our Lord 
Jesus unto eternal life." 

fcaveg: It is happy for us when we are brought 



1M- - - 

to that blessed peine, Christ on his mercy -seat must 
be all our hope. 

Heft. How he was delighted with such texts as 
these : " Come unto me, all ye that are weary and 
heavy laden, and I will give you rest."— " Behold 
the lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the 
world."—" Wherefore he is able to save to the ut- 
termost, them that come unto God by him ; seeing 
he ever liveth to make intercession for us."* — " Ye 
are complete in him." And when I was reading 
that text, " That we may present every man perfect 
in Christ Jesus," I remember how he cried, " Blessed 
be God, I snail soon be presented perfect in Christ 
Jesus !" Then he said," Mr. Littleworth, do I quote 
that text aright"—" Who shall lay any thing to 
the charge of God's elect ; it is God that justified'!, 
who is he that condemneth ? It is Christ that died, 
yea, rather, that is risen again, who is even at the 
right hand of God, who alsomaketb intercession for 
us ?" And then he added the other part of the text, 
" For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life ? 
nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things 
present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth. 
nor any other creature shall be able to separate us 
from the, love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our 
Lord." I remember he talked in this maimer about 
ten days before his death. 

JLoveg. Why then, it should appear, that as the 
strength of his body decreased* his faith and cbilfi- 
dence in God increased, 

lien. Indeed, sir, it did ; for often when I 
asked him a question, he would direct! v answer it 
by a quotation from Scripture, Once, when I asked 
him how. he was, he answered, " The peace of God, 
which passeth all understanding, keeps my heart and 
mind through Jesus Christ." Then he paused and 
said, " Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose 

M 2 



loO 

m«*id is staid on thee, because hetrusteth in thee :" 
lie is " my resting place," and " his rest is glo- 
rious." 

If or. It is really surprising how well he recol- 
lected the Scriptures. 

Hen. Why, as soon as he recovered from his 
fever, he began asking for his Bible ; and from the 
first of his visitation, he was ever seeking after some- 
thing he was satisfied was still wanting. Mr. 
Fribble brought him Pope's Essay on Man, and re- 
commended him to say his Universal Prayer, think- 
ing that would do him good. 

JLoveg. Good ! What good could he get from such 
heathenish trash ? What poor sinner could ever find 
out salvation by Christ, by reading such divinity, if 
it deserves the name ? 

Hen. Indeed, when I was with him, there was 
very little danger of his being captivated with such . 
books ; for when I once told him that he liked the 
old book best, he cried, " Old book! why every 
letter of it is new to me. How ashamed I am of 
myself, that I have so much neglected it till now ; 
but, Oh, what grace and mercy, that God, at the 
eleventh hour of my short life, should have made it 
such a delightful book to my soul ; though I never 
knew its real meaning till after Mr. Lovegood had 
corresponded with my father." Towards the conclu- 
sion of his illness, he grew so spiritual, that he 
seemed almost always in prayer, or engaged in 
quoting some promises of the Gospel, so that it 
was with some difficulty we could get him to settle 
his family affairs. 

War. And how did you settle that difficulty, Mr. 
Henry ? 

Hen. Why, sir, it was mostly done by Mr. 
Reader and myself. The old gentleman is half 'a 
lawyer, and is often consulted on law occasions > and 



131 

Mr: Chipman left that matter entirely with him : 
he only desired it might . be mentioned, that he 
forgave his wife irom the bottom of his soul ; that, 
as he trusted her repentance was sincere, she ought 
not to think of a second marriage, while their only 
child, and still an infant, demanded the utmost of 
her attention and care. That, though he would 
.wish to leave it under guardians yet he recom- 
mended it to the guardians to intrust it to the 
mother so long as she did her duty by it ; that what 
little property he might have realized by his busi- 
ness, should be preserved for the child ; but that 
under the direction of the guardians, the interest 
might belong to his wife for her maintenance, and 
for the education of the child ; and Mr. Reader and 
I settled his accounts as well as we could. 

Wor. This was very just and fair, and w r e shall all 
act in the same upright manner, while we are under 
the influence of Divine Grace. 

Farmer. But, Harry, my child, I w T ould rather 
hear you go on, and tell us. how the good man died; 
it is mighty moving to me, to hear what precious 
things he was able to speak. Blessed be God, at 
times, I know something of the same experience ; 
though, at other tii/.es, I feel myself sadly tosticated 
by the devil and my wicked heart ; yet I think, by the 
blessing of God, I feel I hate sin a thousand times 
worse than I hate a toad. 

Henry. Well, then, father, we'll go on with the 
rest of it. Poor Mr. Chipman, a few days before 
his death, had strong fainting fits, and was entirely 
confined to his bed. After one of these fits, he cried, 
" though my flesh and my heart faileth, yet God is 
the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever- 
more." And when I observed that he appeared very 
fainty, he directly answered, " For this cause I faint 
not ; for though my outward man perish, yet the in- 



132 

ward man is renewed day by day." And then again, 
after he had been discharging a deal of corruption 
from his lungs, and looking at his hands and arms, 
now worn away to mere skin and bones, he cried. 
" This corruptible shall put on incorruption ; and 
this mortal shall put on immortality. Then shall be 
brought to pass the saying that is written : Death is 
swallowed up in victory." I am sure that I have gi- 
ven up my precious soul into the hands of my dear 
Redeemer : and though I seem to feel myself the 
poorest sinner that ever lived, yet now through him 
I can sing, " O, death, where is thy sting ! O, grave, 
where is thy victory ! The sting of death is sin ; and 
the strength of sin is the law : but thanks be to God, 
that ffiveth us the victory through Jesus Christ our 
Lord." 

I.oveg. He seemed to be made of " a quick un- 
derstanding in the fear of the Lord," while his me- 
mory was preserved wonderfully retentive and cor- 
rect. 

Jlenrij. Sir, he was always asking me to point him 
out those parts of Scripture, which I thought were 
most applicable to his state, as a dying man ; and 
those chapters or psalms he would be perpetually 
reading, as long as he was able, while his poor head 
was tottering upon his shoulders, through weakness 
all the time. He was particularly delighted with 
the gospel of St. John. Once I remember he said, 
" How little have I known, till of late, what our bles- 
sed Saviour could mean by saying that he was M the 
bread of life," and " the living bread which came 
down from heaven ;" but now it is explained to me 
by what our Lord said, " He that eateth my flesh 
and drink eth my blood, dweileth in me and I in him ; " 
and, " whoso eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, 
hath eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last 
day;" and my soul can truly cry, u Thy fiesh is 



133 

meat indeed, and thy blood is drmk indeed. " He was 
also peculiarly delighted with the fourteenth chapter, 
about our Lord's having gone before to prepare many 
mansions for his people. And I remember while he 
was talking on that subject, with what a rapture he 
brought forward that text, u We know that if our 
earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we 
have a building of God, an house not made x with 
hands, eternal in the heavens." Then he repeated 
the first verse of a hymn I had frequently read to 
him, and with which he was wonderfully delighted, 
Loveg. What was the hymn, Mr. Henry ? 

Henry. Jesus, thy blood and righteousness 

My beauties are, my glorious dress ; t 

'Midst flaming worlds, in these array'd, 
With joy shall I lift up my head. 

Then he repeated these words : 

A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, 

On thy kind arms I fall ; 
Be thou my strength and righteousness, 

My Jesus and my all. 

Farmer. \To Henry. ~\ But I thought, my child, 
you told me he was most delighted at that hymn our 
minister put out, at the funeral of good old Edward 
Heaven, the Taylor: yfh&t&.brave christian for sure 
he was ! 

When we behold the heavenly state, 
The rest that doth thy saints await ! 
What streams of comfort fill the soul, 
What floods of bliss around us roll ! 

Above the world by faith we rise, 
And taste the joys above the skies ; 
With angels feast, with angels join, 
In hymns immortal and divine. 

On wings of love still upward borne, 
Downward we look with holy scorn ; 
The pains and pleasures of this life, 
Afford us neither joy nor grief. 



134 



\The Farmer heskates~] — There, now, if I have 
not fagot how it goes on! I am afraid I am too 
near a-kinto the old man, Master Banyan calls Mr. 
Forget- good. 

Hani). I chink I can recollect them, father ; it is 
amazing what e heave!) seemed to be upon Mr. Chip- 
man's countenance whenever he repeated them. 

While we enjoy this blissful sight, 
With hearts o'erwhelm'd wirh sweet delight ; 
We long to reach hat heav'nty shore, 
And see this evil world no more. 

O how we dread to sin again ! 
'Tis sin alone that gives us pain t 
We wish to melt in tears of- blood, 



But what are all these tastes, of love, 
To those we shall enjoy above ? 
Just as a drop to all the sea ; 
A moment to eternity ! 

Wor* No wonder that he felt himself so delighted 
with a hymn, so suitable to his state ; but did he con- 
tinue in the same happy frame of mind till his death ? 

Henry. Why, I once remember he sighed two or 
three times, and seemed a little dejected. — I remind- 
ed him of that text, " When the enemy cometh .in 
like a flood, the spirit of the Lord lifteth up a 
standard against him." He directly said, " Why 
should I fear, God is love : he hath loved me, and 
given himself for me. He'll never leave me; he'll 
never forsake me." I can't recollect half the good 
things he said, but I never shall forget the two last 
visits Mr. Reader and I paid him on the last day of 
his life. 

Loveg. It is very confirming to hear of the tes- 
timony of dying- believers in the Lord Jesus : as I 
mean to make some improvement of this event from 
the pulpit. I should 'be glad of further particulars. 



135 

Henry. We were not a little surprised on the morn- 
ing visit, at his first requesting Mr. Fribble should 
be immediately sent for, and that lie might be de- 
sired to come while we were there ; and according 
to his wish, he was sent for directly. He then gave 
me the reason for the request, in some such broken 
language as this. . As an instrument in the hands of 
God, how are we indebted to Mr. Lovegood for all 
we know? " It is. the dying wish of my heart that 
he may be invited to our town ; and I have no other 
desire to speak to Mr. Fribble, than to beseech him 
to lend the pulpit on that occasion to Mr. Lovegood ; 
and I hope it will be no injury to my poor penitent 
wife, and my dear child, if I leave him ten pounds 
to pay the expences of the journey. Mr. Reader 
not only approved the plan, but mentioned how 
glad lie should be to receive him into his house as a 
guest; adding, that till he had corresponded with 
Mr. Lovegood, though he had so often read his 
Bible as a school-master, he never understood it as a 
Christian. 

Farmer. How in the days of my ignorance did I 
admire our Rector Mr. Dolittle, for two sermons he 
used to preach against modern 'Thusists, and ashoxv 
it was impossible for any one to understand the Bi- 
ble, unless they had been at the Univarsity % but I 
did not know that text in those days: "I 'thank 
thee, O father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou 
hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and 
revealed them unto babes !" 

IVor. Why, really Mr. Reader's remark was a 
very excellent one, spiritual truths can only be 
spiritually discerned: the Bible is a most delightful 
and surprising book to those who are under the illu- 
minating grace of the Gospel. 

Henry. Oh, sir, the old gentleman has told me, 
that he could scarcely attend to the younger class 



136 

ef his scholars, through perpetual surprise how he 
coukl be so ignorant with that bock of knowledge in 
his hands. But before Mr. Fribble came, I read him 
the twenty-third psalm, for I knew he wanted some- 
thing short and sweet ; and how he was delighted 
with that passage, " Yea, though I walk through 
the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no 
evil, for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff 
they comfort me!" Though he seemed for a time 
quite revived, while he was mentioning that you, 
sir, [to Mr. Lovegood.'~\ should be requested to visit 
Locksbury, yet as after that he seemed quite languid, 
I proposed that we should have a few words of pray- 
er, and begged Mr. Reader would perform that of- 
fice, at the request of his dying son-in-law ; and it 
could scarcely be called prayer after all. 

Lovcg. No wonder at his hesitation on that occa- 
sion. 

Henry, O, Sir, how the good old man stammered 
and wept while he prayed ! and I remarked that al- 
most every word he made use" of, was from his re- 
collection of some Scripture expression; and his 
feelings w 7 ere so strong, that he could scarcely utter 
those words, which he adopted and converted into 
the language of prayer, " Father, I will that they 
whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, 
that they may behold my glory," And after the 
prayer was ended, I was astonished to hear how well 
Mr. Chipman recollected that passage also; . " We 
all, with open face, beholding, as in a glass, the 
glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image 
from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the 
Lord;" and with what an ecstacy of joy he quoted 
them. Just then, Mr. Fribble came in, saying, that 
though he was willing to perform his duty accord- 
ing to Mr. Chipman's request, and therefore came 
directly as he was called ; yet as he was engaged to 



137 

a card party, which he was obliged abruptly to 
leave, he was rather in a hurry, Mr. Chlpman said, 
that he did not send for him for his prayers ; but, 
as a dying man, to request him, that the minister 
who had done so much good to his once beloved, 
but now unhappy wife, might have the use of his 
pulpit to preach his funeral sermon ; as it was ac- 
knowledged by all that their own parish was notori- 
ously wicked. 

Loveg. Did he acquiesce ? 

Henry. Directly, sir, without 'the least hesitation, 
for he hates preaching as much as you love it : and 
again, he is under obligations to Mr. Reader, for , 
he used to make almost all his sermons for him ; s 
though he now begins to complain of them, as being 
written in too strict a style for his congregation. 

Loveg. Why, Mr. Reader, in one of his letters, 
honestly told me, that he was in the habit of com- 
posing and transcribing sermons for many of the 
clergy about those parts ; and as the price of them 
was five shillings each, it generally produced him an 
income of between twenty and thirty pounds a year ; 
for though Dr. Ti usler's loose copper-plate sermons 
were considerably cheaper, yet Mr. Reader's were 
much less likely to be detected :* : he wrote to me, 
therefore, to, know how far I judged it to be a law- 
ful occupation ; and without the least hesitation I 
told him by all means to continue it; only to write 
consistently with the plan of the Gospel ; as not only 

* An egregious blunder of this sort once happened even in the famous 
University of Cambridge, at what is commonly called the Sound Church : 
the Dr. lias a notable sermon onjthese words, " See that ye fail not out by 
the way." Arid so it fell out that it was preached by different ministers 
three Sundays running. The clerk on the fourth Sunday admonished the 
preacher not to give them a fourth edition of " See that ye fall nor out by 
the way," for that the parish was all very "peace able. The reply was, that 
he had no other in his poc* et, sc that the people must have that or none. - 
The Reader would not dispu e the probability of this anecdote if he knew 
after what sore of a fashion the churches in and about the neighhour- 
hood of the universities are unfortunately -served. ■•« \ 

Vol. II. ' N 



138 

the clergy themselves, but many of their hearers* 
might hear those truths thereby, which they proba- 
bly might not meet with, should he discontinue his 
occupation — * 

Wor. Of sermon-maker-general, I suppose we 
may call it, to the learned clergy in those parts. But 
what a strange jumble this .must make among them 
all, if they still continue their old sermons, and the 
sermons Mr. Reader will compose, since his mind has 
been so much better instructed in the knowledge of 
his Bible. 

Farmer. To my mind, the parsons in the pulpits 
will be like the weathercoks on the steeples, Sun- 
day after Sunday, and the people won't know which 
way the wind is to blow next. But I am afraid, at 
this rate, Mr. Reader will soon lose his custom. 

Henry. Why, father, I believe he has lost some of 
his custom already ; but after all this, I thought Mr. 
Lovegood's preaching at Locksbury would have been 
quite knocked aside. 

Wor. How so, Mr. Henry ? 

Henry. Why, sir, Mr. Fribble continued to ask 
Mr. Chipman, " if he wished him to say prayers to 
him ?" To which I replied, " Through the Divine 
blessing, we have been at prayers already ;" and I 
had the impudence to say, that the ladies would be 
disappointed of his company at cards, if we detained 
him to say his prayers. And when Mr. Chipman 
said, " That to hear another say prayers was no ob- 
ject to him, since his poor vile heart had been taught 
" to pray with ali prayer and supplication in the 
Spirit" But, alas! this language was quite out of 
the depth of Mr. Fribbled knowledge ; and he im- 
mediately said, that tie perceived, Mr. Chipman's 
mind quite rambled, for that he had never heard of 
such a distinction before, between praying and say- 
ing of prayers ; but that if his mind was better on the 



morrow, and if he then wished to see him, he would 
call, and say prayers to him with all his heart. 

JLoveg. What a terrible calamity when such paltry 
things are entrusted with the care of immortal souls ! 

Wor. [To Mr. Lovegood.~\ I hope, sir, you will 
esteem this a call in Providence, to pay a \dsit to 
Locksbury ; though, for ourselves, we shall be sorry 
for your absence. 

JLoveg. If I could get my church well served dur- 
ing my absence, as this seems a providential call, I 
should esteem it my duty to obey ; but I shall be 
able to determine better after I have heard the con- 
clusion of Mr. Henry's story. 

Henry. Why, sir, soon after this visit we went 
home to attend on the school, for I was quite Mr, 
Reader's usher, and in the evening, about six o'clock, 
we were sent for in great haste, with the information 
that Mr. Chipman was dying. Immediately we both 
went, and found him in the agonies of death. He 
seemed at first to take but little notice of us, as his 
eyes were in a measure fixed, but we could hear him 
distinctly say, "Lord, let me now depart in peace, 
for mine eyes have seen thy salvation !" then added 
several times, " Precious salvation, precious salva- 
tion ; O ! precious salvation." And then [to Farmer 
Littletvorth~\ father, y u know how I told you he took 
hold of my hand, and uttered these words, "Our 
light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work 
out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight 
of glory." And how much affected Mr. Reader was 
after he saw that he was dead. 

Wor. Well, well ; the race was but short, though 
the result was glorious. But how must we break 
these matters to the poor widow ? Though I hope 
she will feel the less concerning her husband's death, 
as she has for some time given up all hopes of his 
recoverv. 



140 

_ Loveg. Indeed, sir, I still fear she will feel exces- 
sively, as it was evidently through her misconduct 
that her husband was brought to the grave. 

Wor. As Mrs. Chipman must be informed of the 
event, I know not what we can do 'better than that 
you, Mr. Lovegood, and Mr. Henry Littleworth, 
should call upon her, and attempt to Soften matters, 
by telling her the happy state of Mr. Chipman's mind 
previous to his death. 

Loveg. I know of no other plan that can be adopt- 
ed. But I'll write her a few lines this evening pre- 
paring her mind for the result, and to-morrow morn- 
ing Mr. Henry will call upon her, though I really 
fear what will be the consequence, from the present 
state of her mind. 

Wor. \ToMr. Lovegood.~\ I have a great inclina- 
tion to desire my eldest daughter to attend you; 
if she should join hands with Mr. Merryman, she 
will be frequently called on for such visits. 

Loveg. Sir, this would be a desirable event, not 
only as Miss Worthy is so truly serious ; but as it 
will be a sort of evidence, how much you pity and 
feel for the poor afflicted widow. 

[Thus matters were settled — The parties met ac- 
cordingly, but from the distant hint dropt in Mr. 
Lovegood's note, the first salutation was, " Oh ! he 
is dead, he is dead! I am sure he is dead !" while 
she cried and sobbed inexpressibly ; exclaiming a- 
gainst herself as the vilest of prostitutes, and as hav- 
ing murdered the best of husbands. Every attempt 
to soften her grief from the narration of the blessed 
effects produced both on her husband and her father, 
though through her misconduct, was of no avail. Her 
nights were sleepless, and her days were spent in dis- 
tracted grief, till a total derangement took place. 
Under that disease she was racked with the idea 
that Sir Charles Dash was coming again, to demand 



141 

her as his prostitute ; while with screams and exe- 
crations, she would mention her utter abhorrence 
of the man. Then she would suppose that she was 
forced by a thousand infernal spirits to go, that she 
might be tormented with the damned, together with 
that monster of iniquity. Then her distracted mind 
would depict before her, the spectre of her reverend 
and aged father, beholding her with the frown of 
indignant detestation and abhorrence, as being the 
most unnatural monster that ever existed. Then the 
poor child was next on her imagination, she was sure 
he was starved to death ; crying out against herself, 
that she was worse than a tiger, for tigers loved their 
young. As to her husband, his murdered, emacia- 
ted apparition continually haunted her; and she fan- 
cied that all the people at Locksbury hissed at her,, 
and cursed her whenever they -saw her. 

In this deranged state, she would make such 
speeches to these different characters, ,as were truly 
surprising, though highly romantic ; sometimes she 
would speak profanely ; but ill general, piously and 
penitently in a high degree. 

In this state of mind Mrs. Chipman continued for 
six weeks, when afterwards, throqgh divine mercy, 
being restored ; she appeared like that object of our 
Lord's mercy, out of which the legion of devils were 
■cast, " Sitting at Jesus's feet, clothed, and in his 
right mind. " 

-From -this circumstance, the reader will naturally 
conclude, that as yet he cannot hear the termination 
of her history, which in due time will be brought 
forward. 

During that interval, a continuation of the narra- 
tion, as it respects the Love3ys ? together wi*h some- 
other events, intewoven. with the subject, ^ bf,T I 
trust, not unacceptable to the reader."] 

M .2 



142 
DIALOGUE XXIV 



BETWEEN THE LOVELYS, THE WORTHYS,MR. 
LOVEGOOD, AND MR. CONSIDERATE. 



6N THE DOCTRINE OF JUSTIFICATION, AND ON DR. OR- 



AFTER the Lovelys had continued above a week 
at Mr. Menyman's they returned to Brookfield- 
Hall, and were again received with the accustomed 
hospitality of the house. It is with some regret, that, 
for the sake of brevity, the conversation of Mr. 
Merryman, Dr. Orderly, and the Lovelys, while at 
Sandover, must be omitted ; though from a certain 
congeniality of mind subsisting between Mr. Lovely 
and Mr. Merryman, it might have proved entertain- 
ing and good. The substance, however, of what 
then passed, will be found in the conversation which 
took place at Brookfieid-Hall on the return of the 
Lovelys from Sandover. 

On the next evening they retired to the menagery 
for their tea, where a variety of the feathered tribe 
came around them, giving a sweet resemblance of 
the fearless state of creation, before the human race 
themselves, with other creatures, became ferocious, 
by the fall. Mr. Lovegood, and the family of the 
Considerates, from Mapleton, were also of the 
party. 

JVor. \ToMr. Lovely, .] lam very happy, Sir, to 
see Mrs. Lovely look so much better, and that she 
appears so cheerful after her excursion to Sandover. 

Lovely. Sir, it is impossible to be otherwise than 
happy with Mr. Merry man; he is to be sure a most 



143 

pleasant and engaging creature : and he is almost 
adored among his neighbour,, though he tells us he 
was very vicious, \_To Mr. Lovegood."] till after he 
was reformed by your preaching, sir. 

Loveg. Oh, sir, had it been merely by my preach- 
ing, others who heard the same, might have been 
reformed m well as Mr. Merry man: but a work of 
that sort couid never have been accomplished, had 
even Paul planted, and Apoilos watered, unless God 
had given the increase." 

Lovely. Yes, sir ; but I suppose there must have 
been within him some of the native powers of inherent 
virtue, which were in a measure buried by depraved 
habits and bad examples, and which were afterwards 
excited in him by your zealous preaching ; whereby 
through the grace of God, in conjunction with his good 
resolutions, he was enabled to reform. 

Loveg, Surely, sir, you have not imported these 
strange, dark, mixed, notions of human goodness and 
Divine Grace from Sandover. 

Lovely. Oh, no sir, but Mr. Merryman, (and I 
greatly admire his liberal and candid disposition,) 
when I told him that I and my wife should like to 
have an interview with Dr. Orderly, gave us a letter 
of recommendation to him : and I'll assure you, sir, 
we met with very different treatment from the doctor r 
from what I received from Mr. Dolktle. 

Loveg. O, sir, the Doctor is a most excellent cha- 
racter ; there are few like him in the present day. It 
seems some years ago, there were many others of 
the same family scattered up and down the country, 
but there has been a sad mortality among them ; and 
the present generation is very thin. 

Wor. Were not Mr. Regular, and Mr. Decent, 
and old Dr. Decorum of the some family ? 

Lovely. Yes, sir, I have heard the Doctor mention 
the names of those divines ; but hfi says that too many 



144 

6f the present generation who have succeeded them, 
though they are very anxious to keep up the family 
names, are but a spurious breed, and not worthy to 
be compared to the former. Now, sir, I hope you 
cannot be surprised that I should be influenced by the 
religion of so good a man. I think you are going 
too tar one way, and I was going too much the other : 
and the good Doctor has told me of a middle way, 
and I seem to like that best. 

Wor. Ah ! sir, I travelled that middle way once, 
till I found it no way at all. In short, when I was 
in it I was bewildered as in a labyrinth, and I thought 
I should never have got out of it. 

Lovely. Really, sir, I think the Doctor intermixed 
faith and works together in a very judicious manner. 

Loveg. I am afraid while the Doctor was making 
aip his mixture, he sadly contradicted the language of 
St. Paul : " If by grace, then it is no more of works; 
otherwise grace is no more grace: but if it be of 
works, then it is no more grace ; otherwise work is 
no more work." So that it should appear, as though 
the Apostle was not quite so fond of mixtures as the 
Doctor. 

Lovely. But, sir, before you find fault with the 
Doctor's notions give me leave to state them to the 
best of my recollection. .Now I remember he said, 
that God had made two covenants with man, the co- 
venant of w r orks and the covenant of grace ; that 
man bv the fall broke the covenant of works ; that 
.afterwards God entered into another covenant with 
man, called the covenant of grace : now I think, sir, 
xis far as this, the Doctor agrees with you and Mr. 
Merry man, 

Loveg. Not altogether, sir, if the Doctor supposes 
God entered into covenant with man in his fallen 
estate. It never can be admitted, that ;God, the eter- 
!mISGvereign ? -could eater iftto such a -covenant with 



145 

t 

a set of rebels. The covenant was not made between 
God and fallen man, but between God the Father, 
and God the Son, even the man Christ Jesus, who 
became the substitute for our sinful race ; or, to give 
it you directly in Bible language, he became "'the 
Surety of a better testament," or, " the Mediator 
■of a better covenant, established upon better pro- 
mises." Thus " he suffered the just for the unjust, 
that he might bring us to God." 

Lovely. But, sir, were there not certain terms and 
conditions required of man, whereby he might qua- 
lify himself for the merits of our Saviour ! And — 
[Lovegood interrupts.'] 

Loveg. Before you proceed any further, I beg to 
ask, which will require most, — To qualify ourselves 

r heaven, or for Christ? 

Lovely. Really, sir, this is a new question to me ; 

1 wish you to explain yourself. 

Loveg. Which is of greater importance, the man 
who builds the house, or the house itself? I suppose 
you immediately answer, the man who builds the 
house. If so, without qualifying ourselves for the 
merits of Christ, we can as well qualify ourselves 
for heaven itself, and this will put Christ and his 
great salvation completely out of the question ; for 
if we can merit the greater we can certainly merit 
the less. 

Lovely. But, sir, the worthy Doctor as much dis- 
claims the term merit as yourself; he gave me one 
of his sermons to read, which he composed on pur- 
pose, against the merit of works. 

Loveg. Yes, sir, and 1 am persuaded the worthy 
Doctor has too much humility and goodness to ad- 
mit the conclusion, which must necessarily be drawn 
from his mistaken notions of conditional justifica- 
tion. But if on certain terms and conditions I per- 
form the task proposed for the sake of a reward, how- 



146 

ever low those terms may be, I then can claim what 
the promiser has no longer a right to deny. And 
this brings matters as near to the point of merit as 
one point can be brought to another; and whiie the 
Doctor has too much decided humility to admit the 
conclusion of his own doctrine, yet thousands and 
tens of thousands, by the same doctrine, have fallen 
into the like snare ; and the merit of righteousness 
is the common claim of all, even very frequently 
of the most unrighteous, throughout all the world. 

Lovely. I wish the Doctor were here to answer for 
hims 



se 



14* 



Wor. I wish he were ; for we all respect him very 
highly. 

Consid. I am sure I do, — though I never saw 
him but once or twice, as he passed by our house 
in Mapleton ; yet he wrote me such a kind and 
tender letter on behalf of a poor woman who was a 
parishioner with us, requesting me that 1 would in- 
terest myself with the corpora don to put her into 
one of our alms houses ; and niter I had succeeded, 
the poor woman told me what a many shillings and 
half-crowns the Doctor had given her, so that I have 
loved him ever since. 

Lovely. Then allow me to plead a little further 
for the Doctor's religion, since you all acknowledge 
he is so good a man. He does not say that we can 
merit heaven, as I have before observed ; but that 
faith and repentance are only the mild and moderate 
terms required by the new law of the gospel, where- 
by we, through grace, avail ourselves of the merits 
of Christ, provided we properly perform them. 

Iaoveg. I believe, sir, you will discover that the 
mixture you are now attempting, will be found 
equally as difficult, as a mixture between oil and 
water. For first, I beg leave to ask, can the Bible 
give us the character of a more exalted Christian, 



UT * 

than what is comprehended in that of a penitent 
believer ? Is not this the character of the real peni- 
tent, that he hates all sin, and renounces it? And 
who is the believer ? Why, one who lives in holy 
friendship with God, through the redemption that 
is in Christ, and consequently pants to be dedicated 
to his glory. Is then a man, who thus repents and 
believes, a good man, and in a state of salvation, or 
a bad man and in a state of condemnation ? 

Lovely. O, sir, penitent believers are certainly in 
a state of salvation. 

Loveg. Then how can faith and repentance be 
the conditions of our salvation, when all that have 
these graces are saved already ? 

Lovely. Is it not possible for a person to have these 
graces in order to his salvation ? 

Loveg. Sir, it is utterly impossible, unless you 
turn all things up- side down ; and unless you can 
make the effect produce the cause. Now these graces 
are the effect of our salvation, they cannot therefore 
be the cause of it ; any more than motion, which is 
the effect of life, can be said to be the cause why w r e 
live or move : and so Bishop Beveridge settles the 
matter : " How can I do good works in order to my 
justification, when I can do no good works till after I 
am justified ?" To make out all these strange contra- 
dictory suppositions, we must conclude that a man 
must have grace and yet no grace ; and that he must 
be a believer and an unbeliever at the same time. 
" For he that believeth hath everlasting life. While 
he alone, that believeth not, is condemned already, 
and the wrath of God abideth on him." Suppose a 
physician should say, " I'll come and heal you on 
this condition, provided you first heal yourself." — 
Now Christ is the physician of souls, and penitent 
believers are actually and completely healed : and 
if faith and repentance were the terms and con- 



148 

ditions on their parts, they first heal themselves, 
and then come to Christ to lie healed. And if this* 
doctrine be true, the need of salvation bv Christ is 
entirely put out of the question. [Mr. Lovely he- 
skates exceedingly.'] 

Mrs. Lovely. Mlj dear George, I am sorry to see 
you so perplexed for an answer : but you cannot tell 
what I felt while the Doctor was explaining what 
you and I were to do, that we might obtain the mer- 
cies of our Saviour. I .nought if that doctrine were 
consistent with the Bible, I had a task before me 
which, independent of the grace of God, I should 
never be abie to perform. But then I thought of 
these words in our Common Prayer Book : " Because 
through the weakness of cur mortal nature we can 
do no good thing without thee, grant us the help of 
thy grace, that in keeping thy commandments we 
may please thee. 55 [Lovely still continues silent. ~\ 

Loveg. But, sir, with 3 our leave, I have some 
other questions to ask. What are your pews con- 
cerning human depravity? 

Lovely. Oh, sir, from the general bent of the ha- 
bits and inclinations of mankind, we are certainly 
very depraved. 

Loveg. Dear sir, allow me to press the point a 
little further. Do you conceive that we are totally, 
or only partially depraved ? 

Lovely. Sir, it evidently appears that some men 
are naturally less vicious than others. 

Loveg. Then allow nfe next to ask, how are we to 
make out these queries, ." Who maketh thee to 
differ?" and again, " What is there which thou hast 
not received?" andjif received, " tVhy ytt boa^test 
thou ?" for the same apostie says, " By die grace of 
God I am what I am;" and yet you have attempted, 
to make it out, that there is something in man, that 
fallen creature, which makes the diiieience. Dear 



149 

sir, what are we to think of ourselves when we pre- 
tend to goby the Bible, and yet so grossly contradict it. 

Lovely. Why, sir, I am quite astonished that you 
should controvert the point, that it is divine grace 
w r orking with our good desires. 

Loveg. But from whence are we to get those good 
desires but from divine grace ? 

Lovely. Sir, Dr. Orderly supposes there is uni- 
versal grace given to all, and that they who improve 
it will entitle themselves to the merits of our Savi- 
our ; and that others, who reject this universal grace, 
will be punished for their unbelief. 

Loveg. Then you admit that mankind are not 
totally, but partially fallen; and, according to this 
principle, the less corrupted will accept this univer- 
sal grace, and the more corrupted will reject it ; and 
then another of the apostle's queries is at an end. 
" Where is boasting then? it is excluded. By 
what law ? Of works, nay, but by the law of faith. 5 ' 
For according to your doctrine, dear sir, the law of 
works must be the first turning hinge of our salvation : 
for all depends upon how we will and what we do, 
before the grace of God can have any efficacy upon 
the heart : so that the salvation of a single soul is a 
matter of mere chance, as it rests entirely on the crea- 
ture's will ; and the sovereignty and fore- knowledge 
of God are totally at an end. Sir, this is strange doc- 
trine. 

Lovely. Sir, I confess it is not in my power to follow 
you through such a labyrinth of abstruse arguments ; 
I have not accustomed myself to such metaphysical 
descriptions. But as you are so fond of quoting 
Scripture, I think I can venture to meet you on that 
ground. I remember the Doctor observed to me that 
there was a little word of great importance, which 
stood wonderfully in the way of your notions in re- 
ligion, the word was if. And I recollect he brought 

Vol. II. O 



150 

forward these words — " If thou canst believe, all 
these things are possible to him that belie veth :" and 
" If ye beiieve not that I am he, ye shall die in your 
sins: 5? and then again, sir, about repentance, is it 
not said, " Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise 
perish?" In short, sir, are not faith and repentance 
universally set forth as the terms whereby we are ac- 
cepted ? and were not all the promises given to the 
Jews continually upon the terms of their obedience ? 
Loveg. Indeed, sir, while you have already con- 
fessed that every penitent believer is a good man, 
I cannot see, as I have before observed, how he can 
be a good man and a bad man at the same time. But 
there are Ifs of very different significations ; the 
conditional z/*and the descriptive if: while the vaunt- 
ing conditional ifccxxx demand payment for what has 
been performed; the humble descriptive //"describes 
the character of the good man, but gives God the" 
glory. It is, therefore, very true, sir, ifwt repent, 
i/we believe, z/Ve love God, if we are of a forgiving 
temper, if we have pure hearts and clean hands ; in 
short, if we be found in all holy obedience to the 
laws of God, we may assuredly expect to be received 
into glory : though I think, sir, after you have 
read the Bible a little more attentively, you will 
discover that what you now suppose to be conditions, 
which are to be performed by us, are rather to be 
looked upon as mere gifts or graces bestowed by 
the hand of divine mercy upon us ; and if these 
good things be gifts on his part, they no longer can 
be called conditions on our part. 

Lovely. Why, sir, are we not commanded to do 
all these things ; and does it not rest with us to do 
them, or not to do them, according to our own 
choice ? 

Consid. Sir, I heard Mr. Lovegood say not long 
ago, that " if we, through the corruption of our 



151 

own hearts, had lost all will and inclination to obey, 
God could never lose, nor renounce, his right to com- 
mand." The law is, and must be, eternal in its 
demands, notwithstanding the corruptions of human 
nature ; yea, and that the " law was even added be- 
cause of transgression," 

Lovely. But surely, sir, we have yet further 
proof from the Bible itself of God's respect to man's 
goodness, in order to his being justified by the 
merits of our Saviour. I remember what an excel- 
lent use the Doctor made of the account of Corne- 
lius's conversion; how, that before ever he was 
a believer, he was " a devout man, and one that 
feared God with all his house;" that, " he gave much 
alms to the people, and prayed to God always." 
And observe, sir, that it is said " his alms are come 
up for a memorial before God;" and that " his 
alms were had in remembrance in the sight of God." 
Nay, further, sir, it is actually said, that, "in every 
nation he that feareth God and worketh righteous- 
ness is accepted of him." 

jLoveg. But, sir, even the chapter you refer to, gives 
up the point for which you unhappily contend. Was 
it not found necessary that Peter should be instructed 
by an immediate revelation, to tell even this good 
Cornelius " words whereby he and all his house 
should be saved?" and he went accordingly, " preach- 
ing peace by Jesus Christ," and not by Cornelius's 
righteousness ; testifying at the same time that u to 
him g*ce all the prophets witness, that through his 
name whosoever believeth on him shall receive re- 
mission of sins. " It is a pity, dear sir, that you should 
make one end of the same story contradict the other ; 
let it only be acknowledged, that all the good things 
he possessed, and good things they certainly were, 
yet all the gifts of divine grace previous to a still 
further manifestation of that pardon and mercy we 



152 

all need and receive through Christ alone ; and mat- 
ters are at once settled between us ! The invariable 
rule we should at all times go by, in the interpreta- 
tion of the Scriptures, is to make them speak consis- 
tently with themselves. Do you, therefore, think you 
have proved your point against other express declara- 
tions of Scripture, that "by the deeds of the law 
shall no flesh living be justified ;" that " the righte- 
ousness of God without the law is manifested;" that 
a man is not justified by the works of the law, but 
by the faith of Jesus Christ ; while the apostle fur- 
ther gives this reason why Israel had not attained to 
the law of righteousness, " because they sought it 
not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law ;'" 
and again, " they being ignorant of God's righte- 
ousness, and going about to establish their own 
righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto 
the righteousness of God, for Christ is the end of the 
law 7 for righteousness, unto every one that belie veth." 

Lovely. Dear sir, I again remark, you seem quite 
to misunderstand me. Our good works are not to be 
esteemed as the meritorious cause of our salvation, 
but only the conditional cause. Is it not said, " Ask, 
and ye shall have ; seek, and ye shall find ; knock, 
and it shall be opened unto you ?" And was it not 
proposed, even to that wicked man, Simon Magus, 
that he should pray that the wickedness of his heart 
might be forgiven? and were not all these condi- 
tions ? 

Loveg. I wish I did misunderstand you, sir ; but 
if works are to be in any wise the cause, and especi- 
ally, as you seem to represent them, tht first moving 
cause, whereby wejirst move God himself to shew us 
his mercy ; the second covenant which you have ad- 
mitted to'be the covenant of grace, is quite as much 
the covenant of works as the former ; and then what 
Saint Paul said about being " found in Christ, not 



153 

having on his own righteousness, which is of the law, 
but that which is through the faith of Christ, the 
righteousness which is of God, by faith, 55 is put quite 
out of the question. 

Lovely. Really, sir, I confess you puzzle me : 
though I still think, if I were better read in the 
Scriptures, I could confute you. 

Loveg. Would you, then, attempt a further dis- 
cussion on this point, by bringing forward the histo- 
ries of the Publican, Zaccheus, the thief on the cross, 
and the Philippian jailor, who was converted by the 
power of the Gospel, the moment when he was go- 
ing to commit an act of suicide. What were the 
conditions of good they performed in order to their 
salvation ? 

Lovely. Sir, might it not still be true, that divine 
grace met with some latent good? 

Loveg. An observation of that sort has passed us 
already : but, it has been answered by St. Paul, 
" Inme, that is, in my flesh, dwelleth no good thing." 
And the apostle's own experience is still more to the 
point than any of the former. He was " a persecutor, 
injurious,' 5 — " exceeding mad against the believers in 
Christ;" he w T as not only " a blasphemer" himself, 
but " compelled others to blaspheme also ;" he 
" persecuted them even unto strange cities*" and 
wherever he could meet with them it w r as his glory 
" to put them to death ;" such was his conduct to-, 
wards Stephen ; for we are told, that " he consented 
to his death, and that he made havock of the church, 
ente iag into every house, and haling men and wo- 
men, committed them to prison." Yes, and while he 
was " breathing out threatening and slausrhteV 
against the disciples of the Lord," .having availed 
himself of a commission from the chiei' priest, that 
he might bring all he could meet with, " either 
men or women, bound to Jerusalem ;" it was even 

O 2 



at the very moment, when he was determined upon 
the practice of his most bloody designs, that divine 
mercy met with him and saved him. I have heard, 
indeed, of some who could find out an argument 
even from this, to prop up the cause of their con- 
ditional salvation because Paul did this " ignorant- 
ly and in unbelief:" here then matters turn right 
about, and ignorance and unbelief 'are the terms of sal- 
vation. At one time it is only faith and repentance, 
then good works at large, glossed over by the 
term u evangelical obedience/' Paul, however, gives 
another reason, widely different from any of the 
former: " For this cause I obtained mercy, that 
in me first, (or as it more correctly means, the chief) 
of sinners, Jesus Christ might shew T forth all long- 
suffering for a pattern to them that should believe on 
him to life everlasting. 5 ' 

Lovely, Sir, I feel I am not sufficiently acquainted 
with these points to argue with you as I could wish, 
but I don't think we differ so much as once we did. 

Loveg. Dear sir, matters are at once brought to the 
point we both wish, if we can but admit, according 
to the doctrine of St. James, (who is oftentimes put 
in direct opposition to St. Paul,) that " every good 
and perfect gift is. from above, and cometh down 
from the Father of Lights, with whom is no vari- 
ableness, neither shadow of turning." Consequent- 
ly, what you call conditions required of us, I call 
gifts bestowed by him. Repentance is his gift, 
" Christ is exalted a Prince and a Saviour, to give 
repentance." Faith is said " not to be of ourselves, 
but the gift of God, and of the operation of God." 
And when you talk of the conditional covenant 
binder the Old Testament dispensation, should you 
not rather think of another covenant made with 
man in the person of Christ, settled " upon surer 
promises, aad fixed upon a firmer foundation?" 



155 

And in order to decide the controversy, let us make 
an immediate reference to the word of God. " But 
now hath he obtained a more excellent ministry, 
by how much also he is the mediator of a better 
covenant, which was established upon better pro- 
mises. For if that first covenant had been fault- 
less, then should no place have been sought for the 
second : For finding fault with them, he saith, Be- 
hold, the days come, saith the Lord, when I will 
make a new covenant with the house of Israel and 
with the house of Judah ; not according to the co- 
venant that I made with their fathers in the day when 
I took them by the hand to lead them out of the land 
of Egypt ; because they continued not in my cove- 
nant, and I regarded them not, saith the Lord ; for 
this is the covenant that I will make with the house 
of Israel after those days, saith the Lord : I will put 
my law r s into their mind, and write them in their 
hearts : and I will be to them a God, and they shall 
be to me a people : and they shall not teach every 
man his neighbour, and every man his brother, 
saying, Know the Lord ; for all shall know me from 
the least to the greatest. For I will be merciful to 
their unrighteousness, and their sins and their ini- 
quities will I remember no more. In that he saith, 
a new covenant^ he hath made the first old, now T that 
which decayeth and waxeth old is ready to vanish 
away." Heb. viii. 6 — 13. 

Cemid. Sir, I am afraid, that all your mistakes 
arise from a denial of the total depravity of the hu- 
man race. I just argued as you now do, till I was 
convinced, " that in me, that is in my flesh, there 
dwelleth no good thing." I was very unwilling 
to submit to the awful truth, that God, since the 
fall, had totally withdrawn himself from man : and 
that, consequently, " every imagination of the 
thoughts of his heart is only evil (and that also) 



156 

continually;" so that as there is no good in man, 
no good can come from man, but as implanted 
there by divine grace ; but when I thought myself 
to be only in this half-way fallen state, I was very 
contented with the same sort of half- way salvation, 
which the worthy Doctor has so zealously recom- 
mended to you. 

Lovely. Really, sir, your notions appear very 
gloomy : though Ave are greatly depraved, yet, does 
the law make no allowance for us in our lapsed state ? 

Mrs. Lovely. Now, my dear, I suppose you are 
thinking of what the Doctor called his milder law, 
which is lowered down to be made mere suitable 
to us in our corrupted state ; and that God would 
now accept a sincere instead of a perfect obedience ; 
and that, therefore, he would put up with " the inno- 
cent infirmities, incident to flesh and blood."* 

Lcveg. Why, madam, was it possible the good 
Doctor could make use of such expressions ? They 
had better suited the lips of a downright Antino- 
mian. Could he suppose, that an infinitely holy 
God could retract the law given, and so strongly 
confirmed also, even under the New Testament dis- 
pensation, to " love him with all our hearts;" or, 
as it is expressed, " with aperfect heart ;" and thus 
flatly contradict his own word ? Did you not mis- 
take the Doctor, madam ? 

* This filthy antinomian expression I well remember to have contro- 
verted many years ago, as I found it in one of the late Mr. Fletcher's 
checks to antincmianism ; the great advocate, (to say the best) of the 
double-reiined semi-pelagianism of the day : so inconsistent are these 
writers with themselves. This old heresy, (whose proper nest is popery,) 
has been revived in modern days under the name of arminianism, and 
the reader is requested to weigh the subject, whether their antinomianism 
be not a thousand times worse than what they wamcnly charge on others. 
I ask, whatever good may be found among individuals, yet what have 
these modern prevailing notions in general produced throughout all 
Christendom ? A system of infidelity has polluted the understandings 
and therefore it is no wonder, when they talk of the fruits of righteous- 
ness, that their fruits are found to be as the apples of Sodom. 



157 

Mrs. Lovely. I really so understood him, sir. 

Loveg. Why, then you must have understood 
him that this milder law can be nothing better than 
a mere nose of wax ; that every one is to obey as 
well as he can, provided he does it sincerely. And, 
that though I do not love God with all my hearty 
yet I still love him, though partially, yet sincerely. 
Suppose the thief should say, though I am but 
partially honest, yet I am sincerely so ; and another 
should add, though I am but partially chaste, yet 
I am sincerely so ; while all of them might say, all 
circumstances being taken into consideration, I 
could not be otherwise, for I did as well as I could. 
And, again, as God has made a new law to put up 
with such innocent infirmities, they are no longer 
transgressions, because they are not only not forbid- 
den, but are even become allowable, according to 
the terms of this new law. Now " where there is 
no law there is no transgression : 5 ' therefore we are 
to believe, that it is now revealed from God himself, 
that the law is only partial, and not perfect ; and a 
partial law allows a partial transgression, provided I 
transgress sincerely ; and, consequently, I give per-, 
feet obedience by an imperfect obedience, because 
imperfect obedience alone is required ; and, there- 
fore, if I love God, and pray to him, and believe in 
him very imperfectly, yet if I do it as sincerely as 
1 can, God will overlook all the rest. 

But let us undress these terms a little further, 
that we may more fully detect their loose Antino- 
mian ambiguity. What is imperfect must have in 
it, in a moral point of view, the sin of omission or of 
commission ; so that what some call an imperfect 
action, I'll venture to call an unrighteous one. And 
then I can claim the highest reward that can be de- 
manded, as we have before observed, even by Christ 
himself, for my unrighteous obedience : and as " all 



158 

unrighteousness is sin," by my sinful obedience. — 
Sinful obedience ! Sir, did you ever hear such con- 
tradiction in terms before ? To dream of salvation 
by such a law, must be a dream indeed; and, after 
aft, Is it a law ? What does it define ? Can we con- 
ceive a looser guide ? We must obey as well as we 
can, and the conclusion is dreadful. Faicwel Christ 
and his Gospel ; for if I obey this new imperfect 
law, while the old perfect law is abolished thereby, 
there is no doubt but that I may be justilied by it, 
and then the apostle's conclusion is at an end : " If 
there had been a law given which could have given 
life, verily righteousness should have been by that 
law." 

Lovely. Sir, I wish I was sufficiently master of 
the subject, as Dr. Orderly seems to be ; but I re- 
member well what an admirable use he made of our 
Lord's sermon on the Mount, that it was all on moral 
duties, but 

Loveg. {interrupts ] Not on moral duties, dear 
sir, but on those highly spiritual principles belong- 
ing to the real followers of Christ, as far different 
from the morality of the mere man of the world as 
heaven is above the earth. The morality (if it must 
be so called) of that sermon amounts to this, that 
the real Christian is mortified to every vile passion 
and most completely devoted to God. 

Lovely. Yes, sir, I remember the Doctor admitted 
what you say ; but then he observed how strongly 
our Saviour urged those words, "Not every one 
that saith unto me Lord, Lord, shall enter into the 
kingdom of heaven ; but he that doeththe will of my 
father which is m heaven." And that k is not only 
hearing our Lord's words but doing them that en- 
titles us to the character of the Christian. 1 know 

not how to give up conditions. 

Loveg. Dear sir, lias not all this been answered 



15'9 

before f While the fruits of righteousness describe 
the Christian, is this to pass for proof that these are 
the conditions of his Christianity ? But it is a pity 
the Doctor had not taken the whole of our Lord's 
sermon on the Mount, out of which you quoted that 
passage, into more close consideration ; he would not 
have found any thing of his mild, lax, new r law r in 
these chapters, allowing a little sin, though in the 
very nature of things unallowable ; only because in 
our corrupted state we have an inclination to prac- 
tise it. Had he examined his new law by that ser- 
mon, he would have found the anger of the heart, 
the impurity of the heart, the covetousness of the 
heart, bring us as much under the sentence of con- 
demnation by that law which commands us to be 
pure in heart, that we may see God, as if we had 
actually transgressed. So that after all, this reme- 
dial law is nothing more than the old heresy of the 
Scribes and Pharisees newly revived ; and it is aw- 
fully said, " Whosoever shall break one of these 
least commandments, and teach men so, he shall 
be called the least in the kingdom of heaven ;" and 
nothing can bring all these things more decidedly 
to the point than what our Lord says in the same 
sermon, " Be ye perfect, as your Father who is in 
heaven is perfect." It is a dangerous business to 
preach up a doctrine that has such a direct tendency 
to teach us to violate God's most holy law, which 
must be as eternal and as unchangeable as God 
himself. 

Wor. I am sorry Dr. Orderly should suppose that 
Christ came down from heaven to abrogate the 
perfect law of his Father, and to set up an imperfect 
one in the room of it. Did not our Lord say just 
the contrary, in the very same sermon, when he de- 
clared " he came not to destroy the law, but to fulfil 



160 



it ;" and that " not even one jot or tittle of it should 
pass away till all was fulfilled ?" 

Consul. Sir, as a further illustration of your re- 
marks, we are to -suppose that there was once a 
long measure of obedience fully defined, that we 
should love God perfectly ; but that now an inde- 
finite short one is to be introduced in its place ; and 
that a part , be it more or less, is to pass for the 
whole. So, as it respects the payment of debts, full- 
weight money was once demanded ; but according to 
this new law, it is as lawful to pay in short- weight 
money, provided we pay as well as we can. So 
that whether it be a half, or a quarter, or even less 
still, if the law allows it, I perfectly fulfil the terms 
of such a law, by my imperfect payment. Thus, 
while the old law condemns our corruptions, and 
demands perfect obedience, the new law makes a 
sort of an undefined composition between us and 
God ; and, I am sure, while this new Iaw r thus com- 
pounds for the sins of man, there can be no need of 
salvation by the Gospel. It is, however, a strange 
way of talking, to suppose a man pays his rent per- 
fectly ', though he pays it but partially, provided lie 
pa\b it sincerely, and as well as he can. 

Lovely. Oh, sir, the Doctor did not mean to go so 
far as this. 

JLoveg. I am persuaded, sir, he did not ; but he ill 
conceives of the evil consequences of his own doc- 
trine. Every expression which has a tendency to 
withdraw our minds from the purity of God's law, 
must also prove equally subversive of the Gospel of 
Christ; and we may easily judge what an unhaiiowed 
influence this must produce on the hearts of men. 
But pray, sir, did toe Doctor shew you any part of 
the Scriptures winch settles this point? 1 should 
have supposed that a doctrine, so very essential in 
itself, w ould have been very plainly revealed. 



161 

Lovely. Sir, his references were rather genera! 
than particular. 

Loveg. I should suppose that such general refer- 
ences would best suit the cause. But did he not call 
this new- invented law by the name of the remedial 
law ? 

Lovely. I think that was the term he gave it. 

Lovep\ No wonder that an unscriptural name was 
wanted for such an unscriptural doctrine ; * and I 
suppose the inventors of that phrase took it from 
the "word remedy. A fine law truly, a remedy for 
man's corruptions, by allowing a partial practice of 
them ! Pray, sir, what would you think, if the laws. 
of the country were as badly framed as these slip- 
posed modern laws of God ; if the laws against theft; 
violence, and adultery, were to be u made easy for 
the practice of the present age ; 5? f and if a little lati- 
tude were to be given as a remedy on all these occa- 
sions, what would be the result of it ? 

Lovely. Sir, I am sure the Doctor never meant 
to encourage such immoralities. 

Loveg. Sir, though the purity of his intentions is 
indubitable, yet, what have been the consequences 
of such sort of doctrines ? Why, a system of lax mo- 
rality has been introduced, in the room of genuine 
Christianity. People thereby have been rendered 
careless and secure, in a state of mind far inferior to 
what is demanded in the word of God. In short, 
preaching up the merit of good works has produced 

* I am aware of an objection on this score, as it relates to the word 
Trinity. Some will ask the question, in what part of Scripture is that to 
be found ? I answer, no where ; its utility alone exists in superseding 
the need of long circumlocuitous expressions, that have been denned a 
thousand times over : though others have followed their example in call- 
ing themselves Unitarians, in contradistinction to Trinitarians, while they 
know that every Trinitarian is as much an Unitarian as themselves, 

•f See the title-page of the ?:ew Whole Duty of Man. 

Vol. II. P 



162 

nothing but the practice of bad ones. Such has been 
the case ever since the old standard doctrines of the 
Bible and of the Church of England have been ne- 
glected ; the Churches themselves, in most places, 
have been shamefully forsaken ; and, white the or- 
dinances of the Sabbath and of the sanctuary have 
been thus thrown aside, we cannot wonder at the 
abounding wickedness of the day. 

Lovely. But, sir, the Doctor's church is very de- 
cently filled, though not so crowded as yours. 

Loveg. I have heard it is, sir, and I am happy that 
the people give that token of their esteem for such a 
respectable character. But, look into other churches, 
where the same sort of doctrine, or very nearly so, is 
preached by other clergy, much less respectable than 
himself. 

Lovely. Sir, the Doctor is as much displeased at 
the careless lives of the clergy as you can be. You 
never see him out of temper, but when he is speaking 
about some of them, in his own neighbourhood ; and 
I 5 11 assure you, sir, he never speaks of you, or Mr. 
Ivlerryman, and some other clergy, of your acquaint- 
ance, but in terms of high repect ; though, in some 
instances, he thinks you are mistaken in your doc- 
trines, and from the same principle that you object 
to his, that they have a tendency to make men lax 
in their morals : though, at the same time, he is not 
a little astonished that there has been such a reforma- 
tion accomplished in your parish ; and he is quite 
surprized to see what a good man Mr. Merryman 
has been made by your preaching. 

Wor. But, sir, will you tell us plainly, if we ask 
the question, have there been any instances of the 
influence of the Doctor's preaching on the hearts of 
his t carers, similar to those which, through the bles- 
sing of God, have been exemplified among others 



163 

who preach salvation by the entire mercies of Christ 
to a ruined world? 

Lovely. Sir, the Doctor laments that circumstance 
exceedingly. He says, he has had the satisfaction of 
keeping and confirming the good in the habits of 
virtue ; but, even with tears, he acknowledged, that 
-as yet he did not know that he had reclaimed any 
that were really vicious from the error of their ways ; 
though he thinks he knows a few instances of some 
that are less vicious than formerly. 

Loveg. Indeed, Mr. Lovely, both you and the 
Doctor are strangely mistaken, if you suppose that 
the doctrines we preach, when properly understood, 
can, in anywise have an immoral tendency upon our 
hearers. For, in regard to repentance, which you 
call one of the conditions of our salvation, and which 
consequently must be left, in a great measure, to 
corrupted man to perform, as by himself; yet we, on 
the contrary, believe, according to our excellent li- 
turgy, that -it is God who " creates in us a new and 
contrite heart ! " and again, while we believe we are, 
by the Spirit of God, made to abhor that which is 
evil ; under such sensations, we are satisfied it will be 
impossible for any of us to live in it, — the existence of 
sin being the only hell we feel or fear. In short, sir, 
we believe that repentance is regeneration; it means 
a change of mind, and it is impossible that a man can 
live in sin when thus by the grace of God he is ut- 
terly set against it. 

So in regard to believing, which you suppose to be 
another condition, which is to be performed by us. 
As we are persuaded that none but humble penitents. 
will be true believers, so none but such will fly from 
sin to Christ ; and no one can fiy from sin, that he 
may live in it, any more than a man can fly from the 
plague, that he may catch it. Again, sir, while you 
conceive it to be a condition that rests with as, we 



164 

conceive it to be a grace of the Holy Spirit wrought 
in as ; and that such a faith must purify the heart, a$ 
thereby we are united to Christ; and, while we thus 
11 abide in him, and he in us, we shall bring forth 
much fruit." Read the fifteenth, of St. John's Gos- 
pel, sir, at your leisure, and that will tell you what 
we mean by faith. 

Lovely. Sir, I never thought that you meant to 
preach faith without works ; but as for me, I confess 

I thought that, 1 confess, I scarcely know what I 

thought ; but I cannot stand my ground. If I am 
w T rong, the Lord have mercy upon me, and set me 
right ! But, I must acknowledge, if we are such 
fallen creatures as you say the Bible represents us to 
be, I cannot see how ever we can repent or believe 
while our natures are so depraved. 

Mrs. Lovely. Oh, my dear George, how glad lam 
to hear 3011 say so ! Do you not remember how much 
the Doctor himself seemed to be perplexed when I 
asked, what they who felt their hearts so hardened 
and unbelieving must do, and who still wished to be 
changed? and he answered, they should pray to 
God for his grace ; and then you know I saicl, that if 
God is to give us these graces, we can't bring them 
to him, till we first receive them from him. 

Wor. Why, we had it from good authority, that 
when the Doctor was ill the other day, and he refus- 
ed the assistance of Mr. Jackadandy ; when it was 
thought he would die, he was obliged to give up all 
his hopes of conditional salvation. For that he had 
performed these supposed conditions so ill, that his 
sins of omission, like those of St. Augustin, were 
more frightful in his sight than those of commis- 
sion. 

Lovely. \To his wife.'] My dear, I fear I spoke too 
hastily to you when you mentioned your concern, 
alter you had first heard Mr. Lovegocd. I mean to 



165 

think more seriously about these matters. I hope 
you'll forgive me ; and, if I can't think quite as you 
do, I'll never oppose you any more. 

Mrs. Lovely. Oh, my dearest George !-^-[She 
weeps — he weeps — they all weep — -and while these 
sympathetic tears interrupt the continuation of the 
dialogue, the concluding narration of the history of 
this faithful and affectionate pair must necessarily he 
deferred. ^ 



P 2 



166 



DIALOGUE XXV 



BETWEEN MR. WORTHY AND MR. FREE, 

A Friend of the Family of the Lcvelvs. 



CONTAINING THE CHARACTER OF ALDERMAN GREEDY, 
OF GREDITON. 

THE Lovelys were in the habit of making excur- 
sions about that neighbourhood, that they might 
entertain themselves with the scenery of the coun- 
try. One morning they went to see a beautiful ro- 
mantic waterfal, which, being at some distance, occu- 
pied them the whole of the day, 

A gentleman of an easy and liberal mind, whose 
name is Free, an old friend of the family of the 
Lovelys, had lately come into that neighbourhood. 
He accidentally hearing that young Mr. Lovely was 
recently married, and that he was hospitably enter- 
tained at Mr. Worthy's, came over to see him ; 
but, unfortunately, on the very day on which he 
went to see the waterfal. The reader, however, 
by this event, will gain more information respecting 
the family of the Greedys, especially of the great un- 
cle, than otherwise might have been the case. 

Mr. Worthy, therefore, with his usual hospitality, 
insisted upon it Mr. Free should be detained that 
day at Brook field Hall, that he might not be disap- 
pointed of his errand. 



167 



Mr. Free having been thus hospitably invited to 
the house, after some introductory conversation, the 
following dialogue took place. 



Wor. Have you long known the family of the 
Loveiys, sir ? 

Free, Sir, Mr. Lovely's father and I were school- 
fellows, and we have been in the habits of intimacy 
ever since : we were also near neighbours till about 
five j T ears ago. 

Wor. Then I suppose you lived somewhere near 
Grediton ? 

Free. Yes, sir, much too near for the good of my 
health. * The air of that place never agreed with my 
constitution. Our house was situated about half- 
way between Grediton and Fairfield, the abode of 
Mr. Lovely. 

Wor. I should suppose, from what young Mr. 
Lovely says of his father, that he is a person of a very 
respectable character. 

Free. Very much so indeed, sir, though he mar- 
ried into a shocking family. 

Wor. Yes, by his account, the family of the 
Greedys are a sad set ; his uncle has used him most 
cruelly on account of his marriage. 

Free. Indeed, sir, the conduce of his uncle in that 
business was not less treacherous and unjust, than 
the behaviour of Mr. George Lovely was generous 
and fair. He quite takes after his father. He is of 
an excellent disposition. 

Wor. But it seems his uncle is determined to cut 
him off from every penny, pn account of his marri- 
age, though he is his heir at law. 

Free. . So he gives it out. But I should not won- 
der, when his rage is abated, though he is of a very 



168 

revengeful and malicious turn of mind, if he leaves 
him every farthing. I know all the family well — 
they are a strange set, 

WoTk I am afraid his mother is quite a Greedy y 
though he says nothing to us about her. 

Free. Indeed, sir, she is entirely one of the family ; 
she is always aiming at that which is covetous and 
mean, while her husband is just the reverse. 

Wor. It is bad work when the disposition of the 
husband and wife are so contrary to each other : but 
he talks of a very rich, old great uncle, a lawyer, 
and one of the aldermen of Grediton, who as highly 
approves of the match as the other uncle opposes it. 
Though I don't like to ask the young people any 
questions about their rich relations, as it always 
brings some painful reflections to their mind ; yet 
Mrs. Lovely has mentioned several things to Mrs. 
Worthy respecting his astonishing covetousness. By 
what we can gather, he must be one of the most re- 
markable misers that ever existed. 

Free. I should suppose if you could search the 
kingdom over you would not find his equal : and he 
is not less wicked than mean. 

Wor. I should suppose his character, as a miser, is 
almost as complete as it could be. While the pro- 
digal, like him in the Gospel, spends all in mad and 
riotous living, till he becomes a mere pensioner up- 
on the hogs ; this miser, it seems, though he ieeds 
on the imaginary idea of his wealth, sustains the real 
evils of one in abject poverty* 

Free. As a lawyer, nobody knows better how to 
turn the pockets of others inside out, that he may fill 
his own. 

Wor. The profession of the law turns in well for 
those who can get rid of conscience and principle in 
their profession. 

Free. Sir, from his childhood he was educated in 



. 169 

all its subterfuges and chicanery ; the practice of 
which, for some years, proved considerably to his 
advantage : but as he made it a point to click at no- 
thing, provided he could s;erve himself, rather than 
his client, he had but little business after a while, 
except among those of his own sort. 

Wor. In this respect, it seems he was rather too 
roguish for his own interest 

Free, Rather so: but their he procured for him- 
self some excellent pickings through life, by being 
agent for the corporation to which he belonged. 

Wor. I am told he is immensly rich. Had he 
much to begin with ? 

Free. His private fortune, as one of the younger 
branches of a wealthy family, was no more than 
two thousand pounds, and from this comparatively 
small sum, either by his hoardings as a miser, or 
by his gettings as a lawyer, he is now supposed to 
be worth thirty times that sum. 

Wor. It seems, he was never married* 

Free. Report says, he never thought of marrying 
but once, and that was to a rich widow, who was 
nearly as frugal as himself. The marriage articles 
were accordingly drawn out by himself : But when 
he came to lecture her on his methods of ceconomy, 
and especially that he could never allow but one sheet 
to the bed, as laying upon the blankets is the most 
wholesome, she begged to be off. Upon this he 
threatened to prosecute her for a breach of contract, 
and thereby picked her pocket of two hundred 
pounds. 

Wor. What a strange trick ! But all this was no 
great sum to begin with, if what Mr. George Lovely 
says be true, that he is now worth upwards of three 
thousand pounds a year. 

Free. Sir, I don't doubt it. Hoarding and saving 
are all his delight. He is an excellent arithmeti- - 



170 

clan ; and this talent he alwavs exercises in the old 
proverb, " A penny saved is a penny got." He was 
so well acquainted with the consequences of interest 
and compound interest, that, report says, he it was 
who recommended that plan to the late prime mi- 
nister to pay off the national debt ; and as, on that 
occasion, he feigned himself a man of poverty, he 
got a good slice of the secret service money for his 
advice, as another addition to his useless hoard. 

JFor. As to his personal expences, it seems, he is 
stingy beyond any thing. 

Free. Sir, report says, he were the same suit of 
clothes, of a dark grey mixture, for full fourteen 
years ; and which most people remembered from 
childhood : so that he was known by the name of the 
grey alderman. And as he was under the necessity 
of appearing decent, that he might pick up a few 
of those precious things called guineas, which he 
was in the habit of receiving, upon being consulted 
for his advice ; and when he appeared abroad upon 
his business, it is said, that to keep his best suit in a 
state of proper preservation, he adhered strictly to 
the following rules. — First, he never wore them but 
as he was professionally consulted ; and then, if at 
home, when any came for his advice, he would slip 
off his morning gown and put on his coat and waist- 
coat, and next cover his old patched tattered small 
clothes with a silk handkerchief, which was alwavs 
at hand for that purpose. 

Secondly. As soon as he had given his advice, 
these clothes were immediately slipt off, and return- 
ed to the chest, that they might be preserved from 
dust, wind, and weather, till wanted again. 

Thirdly. Whenever he was called abroad, and 
when seated in an elbow chair, in these clothes, he 
would always sit like a trussed turkey, with his arms 
close to his body, that he might not damage the el- 



171 

bows by any wasteful rubs : the same care he also 
took not to lean back, but sat as upright as a dart, 
that the shoulder bones might not have the same ef- 
fect on the back of his coat. 

Wor. What an astonishing instance of frugality 
and care ! 

Free. Yes, sir, and his old morning gown was an- 
other piece of curious antiquity, the real age of 
which could never be correctly ascertained. It was 
originally fabricated out of some old curtains he 
bought as a bargain, at a sale, and designed as hang- 
ings for his bed.* But having discovered that these 
would be unwholesome, as they were likely to prevent 
the free circulation of the air, they were by himself, 
who, for the same frugal purposes, had pretty well 
learnt the use of the needle, transmogrified into this 
morning gown. His wig also was another piece of 
valuable antiquity, which had been in existence up- 
wards of nine years, and which gave him a very 
respectable and alderman-like appearance. This 
also was worn with the same frugality and oeconomy, 
and, when done with, returned into its band-box, 
with remarkable care, when its place would be sup- 
plied by an old Welsh wig, which he luckily procur- 
ed for a bad debt, together with some sheets and 
blankets which he claimed in lieu of lees, from the 
executors of an old man, who died a few pounds in 
his debt, leaving his grand-daughter behind him, to 
execrate such a rapacious wretch ; who could de- 
prive her thereby of the small gratuities she ex- 
pected for her attendance, and not even leave her a 
sufficiency to carry her grandfather with decency to 
the grave. 

Wor. What a horrid wretch ! and is he as frugal 
in his house-keeping as in his clothing ? 

Free. Sir, he ever insists upon it, that if people 
are troubled with rats or mice, it is their own fault ; 



172 

for that it is a sure proof they keep too good a house; 
that, as he has never been pe-tered with such sort of 

aders, he has ever saved himself the expence of 
ing a cat ; so that if ever a rat, cr a mouse, 
through mistake, should steal into his premises, one 
could almost feign to oneself the idea, how they 
>tand with tears in their eyes lamenting their 
sad mistake, that ever they should have found the 
unfortunate hole into that horrid land of famine ! 

Wor* Xo doubt then but his housekeeping was all 
of a piece, if ruts and mice were so alarmed at the 
sight of it. 

Free. He was in the habit of remarking that his 

expences dmself and an old woman, who oc 

ly waits on him, formerly amounted to at 

:e a day ; but that of late they had beep 

doubled. The common black tea he preier- 

... g the most whoic^oiiie ; for where he can 

>enny he wondei/iUiiy studies die vcholesomes; 

:.e and watei he adopts as his bevei ge, on 

...count ; though, now and ows 

:i small beer, as a treat between him 

or. It is a wonder he has not starved himself to 

. Sir, from the same principles he never al- 
3 the use cf mustard, pepper, ciiidse:,:, 

;v are very expensive .irticlcs, and stimu- 
lus to eat more than nature 
res : wh little scraps he buys at the m« 

are pretty hi atec before they ape 

- give. Som even 

a little poultry, provided it has 
been rendered cheap through an utimely death. 
Wor. I never herd of such a filthy oid hog in all 

fcj sir, this strange old ceconomist, after all, 



173 

while he is thus frugal, at his own table, can be vora,^ 
cious enough while he enjoys his repast at the tables 
of others ; and, though he always says, it is a sure 
sign a man is a toper when he can uncork the bottle 
for his own indulgence ; yet, at the table of others, 
the pop of an uncorking bottle is not less pfeasant to 
his ears than the taste of the wine is grateful to his 
palate. 

War. Such curious instances of astonishing fruga- 
lity and meanness, I think, I never heard of before. 

Free. Sir, I can give you other instances of the 
same sort ; whenever he attends any of the corpora- 
tion feasts, made at the public expence, they say, he 
Will not only half-starve himself the day before, that 
he may then satisfy his voracious appetite with as 
much as ever it will dispense with ; but afterwards, 
if he sees any thing that is moveable, such as biscuits, 
oranges, apples, almonds, and raisins, dried sweet 
meats, and other such rarities, these will find their 
way into his pockets in considerable abundance* 

Wor. I wonder he is not ashamed of himself, - 

Free. Shame, sir! why there is no shame in him. 
For though the town is filled with misers, yet he is 
so much worse than the worst of them, that he is the 
butt of general ridicule and contempt among them 
all. On one of these occasions an artful wag cut a 
hole in his pocket, whereby his intended hoard was 
found scattered about the room as fast as he could 
pocket it. At another time, he was treated with the 
intermixture of a nearly tasteless powder of a certain 
root that acts as a powerful cathartic, which they 
say had a very seasonable effect after a most plen- 
tiful repast. I am really, sir, almost ashamed to tell 
you these strange stories, but that you may under- 
stand how- he would submit to any thing sooner than 
forego the advantages resulting from his covetous 
pranks. 

Vol. II. Q 



174 

Wor. Was ever such a creature heard of before? 
He surely never could find it in his heart to ask a 
friend to partake of a meal with him : if he begrudged 
himself, .he certainly begrudged his friends. 

Free. He now and then would invite a person to 
his table, and give them a dinner, but never unless 
under the expectation of securing their custom, or 
for some other lucrative motive. On one of these 
occasions he treated his guest with a roasting pig, 
which unfortunately lost its life by being overlaid 
by the sow, and which was not discovered till 
above a day after its death. And then it proved so 
rich a repast to his guest, that it made him so very 
ill, that he thought it necessary to employ Mr. 
Greedy to alter his will, lest he should die ; whereby 
he not only procured a couple of guineas for him- 
self, but another guinea for a physician, who was 
nearly as covetous as himself, that he might obtain 
a proper recipe to dislodge the portion oi the above- 
said pig, which had made him so ill. 

On the next market day, however, as report says, 
Mr. Greedy had the misfortune to be well paid off 
in return. For having agreed on the purchase of 
the dead pig for a shilling, the woman who sold 
it called after him, while he w 7 as seeking for his 
cheap bargains, as an old rascal, for that he had put 
her off with a bad shilling for her dead pig, on the 
last market day, and demanded a good one in re- 
turn. This he refused : upon which the woman 
becoming clamorous, the rest of the market-women 
joined in the uproar. They next helped her to 
seize him, and immediately they all surrounded 
him, treating him with a variety of such lan- 
guage as they are accustomed to use on the like oc- 
casions, threatening to drag him directly to justice 
if he did not exchange the bad shilling for a good 
one ; while he, sadly against his will, that he might 



175 

get out of the hobble, submitted to their demands* _ 
Thus he procured his escape, though he had still to 
run the gauntlet through the market, each calling 
after him; while one asked him what he would 
give, the next market day, for a dead turkey ; an- 
other offered him an old gander that had been killed 
by. a fox ; and a third presented him with the cheap 
offer of some stinking fish. It is not to be wondered 
at, that this treatment kept him out of the market for 
above a twelvemonth afterward ; nor could he dare, 
ever after that time, to appear but quite at the fag 
end of the day, when he might avail himself of cheap 
bargains, without running the risk of such another 
rencontre. 

Wor. Well, in all my life I never heard of such a 
creature. No wonder that, whenever his name is 
mentioned, Mr. Lovely is silent, and shakes his head. 
But the old women in the market treated him just as 
he deserved. 

Free. Sir, I can recollect a few more anecdotes, 
out of a vast abundance, which might be produced, 
concerning this most contemptible miser. He is so 
covetous, that he scarcely ever can afford to buy a 
piece of soap for the purpose of washing himself. 

Wor. A nasty old fellow ! one would think he 
would be poisoned by his own filthiness.. 

Free. Really, sir, notwithstanding this, when you 
see him out of doors, he, in general, looks clean 
and wholesome. But he will boast how he keeps 
his skin clean, by merely rubbing himself with a 
coarse dry cloth, which he observes, not only has 
the salubrious effects of a flesh brush, but saves him 
the expence of soap. 

Wor. Was it possible that he could go beyond all 
this? ' 

Free. Sir, he is the same man throughout. Once 
he had nearly suffered the penalty of fifty pounds 



176 

for making his own tallow candles ; not only that 
he might evade the. duty on his own account, but 
that he might also make an advantageous swap of a 
part of his stock for his black tea and brown sugar, 
at a neighbouring chandler's shop. 

Wor. Had the penalty been levied, I should sup- 
pose that the loss of the money might have broken 
his heart. But if he was the manufacturer of his 
own candles, I suppose he could afford himself a 
little light. / 

Free. Sir, I have been told, though he makes his 
own candles, yet he uses them very sparingly ; for 
first, he never burns but one at a time, as he has 
discovered that a strong light is prejudicial to his . 
eyes ; and also that it is a sin to burn out day light. 
His employment, therefore, during twilight, they 
say, is to knit his own stockings, which, from the 
same frugal motives, he has learnt to accomplish in 
a most dexterous manner. 

Wor< Have you any more stories to tell of this 
curious muck- worm? 

Free. At one time he had nearly lost his life by 
suffocation from the fumes of brimstone, having 
commenced the manufacturer of his own matches, 
under a discovery that he could make many more 
matches for a farthing than he could purchase for a 
halfpenny : and at another time, his life was in great 
danger from his having been shot at, under a sup- 
position that one moonshiny night he was robbing 
a rabbit warren; when the fact was, that he was only 
engaged in picking up the excrements of the sheep, 
#nd other cattle, that he might enrich his own 
garden, by depriving a neighbouring common of 
its manure. Such are some of the contrivances of 
this miserable creature, that he may have plenty of 
ready money, for purposes not less villanous than 
tfaev are mean, 



Won It seldom happens, but where a deal of co~ 
vetousness exists, cruelty and villany are sure to be 
connected with it. 

Free. I am sure it is the case with that crafty 
old harpy, for every thing he does is with air eye to 
his own interest. It is looked upon as a remarkable 
instance of extravagance, at least in him, to give 
sixpence a week to a public news-room; but it is 
with a design that he may learn from the different 
advertisements, what is to be sold by the thought- 
less and necessitous of every description. And 
from this principle he is become a considerable land- 
jobber, whereby he has made several advantageous 
purchases of different estates. Some he sells again, 
others he has in his own possession. 

JVor. What a long headed fellow he must be— 
and what a character he must have among all that 
know him! 

Free. He cares nothing about character; for he 
will oftentimes tell of his covetous pranks for the. 
diversion of others, in a measure, of the same stamp 
with himself. I remember one of them was, that, 
hearing, by the papers, an estate was to be sold not 
far from Credit on, and that London was to be the 
place of sale; he first contrived to get himself sub- 
poenaed to attend a trial, at an assize in the town 
through which he must necessarily pass. As his de- 
parture from home, being a professional man, might 
prove a considerable loss to him, the charge he rtiadfe 
was so high, that it completely paid his st.ge- 
coach expences, during a journey of near four hun- 
dred miies, before he accomplished his return. He 
not only ! 1 /ed at free cost while he was upon the busi- 
ness of the trial, but when there pocketed sufficient 
prog to take hint to London. Chi his arrival \here 
he entered the auction-room as early a > he could} 
and this being plentifully provided vvi 

2 



If '8 

wine, and other good commodities of the same sort, 
being sharp set, after his long journey, he first made 
a most plentiful meal, and next loaded his pockets 
with a quantity sufficient to furnish him with pro- 
visions for his return, that he might not be at the 
expence of eating at an inn. The whole of his tra- 
velling expences amounting but to fifteen-pence for 
a little gin and water, or small beer, after so long a 
journey, and after having purchased an estate amount- 
ing to near three hundred pounds a year. 

Wor. Sir, if I had the least reason to doubt your 
veracity, I should at once say it is impossible. But 
when covetousness is thus reduced to a system, al- 
most any thing may be credited, that the wretched 
system may be abided by. I am afraid he was a hor- 
rid extortionate landlord. 

Free. Why, sir, after all, for I know a deal of the 
family, this wretched cormorant, who never got 
fat by all he devoured, does not over-rate his te- 
nants; but this is all from the same principle, that 
they may not beggar his estates. 

Wor. Why, I find all my tenants, as they ^re 
used well, pay well. That mercenary landlord, who 
oppresses his tenants, is generally served as he de- 
serves — they beggar his land, and break in his 
debt. 

Free. Ah, sir, without flattery, your name as a 
landlord, will live a long time after you are dead. 
As far as this, however, old alderman Greedy fol- 
lows your example. But if any of them are in ar- 
rears, or should, perchance, through misfortune fail 
in his debt, he directly becomes to them the most 
oppressive vulture that ever lived. The cry of the 
widow and the orphan never reaches his callous 
heart ; the accomplishment of their ruin is sure to 
take place, sooner than he will miss by lenity what 
'he can extort by law. 



179 

Wor. Why, of the two, one should rather sup- 
pose he was a greater monster of iniquity than the 
possessor of the family estate at Grediton Hail. 

Free. Sir, in point of principle, the one is as bad 
as the other. But in regard to mere covetousness, 
so far as it relates to the art of saving, the old alder- 
man far exceeds him. As to usury, it is his supreme 
delight, so far as he can evade the lash of the law. 
The extravagant spendthrift he is sure to deal with, 
if t he can cover himself by collateral security from 
the most distant danger of a loss, and these may de- 
pend upon paying most severely for their folly. — -A 
sinking tradesman is also sure to get money from 
him, provided he can procure a bond in judgment 
for himself; for it is no matter with him who is 
cheated, provided he is benefited. 

Wor. A bond in judgment ! yes, those rascally in- 
struments of legal process might do well enough for 
him, while they entirely sweep away the property of 
other creditors who may have an equal claim. But 
can a man of character or conscience bear to possess 
such diabolical instruments of law for a moment ? 

Free. No matter for all this or ten times more ; 
these miserable characters would strike his rapacious 
eye with infernal delight : like a complete vulture, 
as sure as he could seize them in his talons, he would 
hold them fast, till they became entirely subject 
to his mercy; a grain of which he never pos- 
sessed. 

Wor. What horrid mischief the love of money 
does to the human mind ! 

Free. Why, sir, the mind of lawyer Greedy is 
scarcely human. Cruel as the spider when the help- 
less fly is entangled in his web, which he is sure never 
to leave till he finishes his existence by sucking his 
blood ; so this unfeeling fiend in human shape, who 
cares for no one but himself, when he has these un- 
wary sufferers safely toiled in those cruel iustru- 



* k 180 

-merits of law, tortures them at his pleasure ; and, 
while there is any blood in them, being as crafty as 
he is cruel, he is sure to find it out ! 

JVor. What a monster of a man ! 

Free. Sir, he is one who knows no interest but 
what centres in himself. If ever he appears generous 
it is only with some feigned design. He had been 
a bearable character, were he merely covetotfs for 
himself; but his covetousness urges him on to every 
thing that is wicked and unjust, while, at the 
same time, he is one of those long-headed crafty- 
minded fellows, that scarcely ever expose themselves 
to the lash of the law : but under the cover of the 
law he will act a part the most villanous and un- 
just: 

JVor. It seems he is of a great age. 

Free. Yes, sir ; but the last time I was informed 
about him, I heard he was as keen after money as ever, 
grasping after the world as eagerly as if he was never 
to leave it. 

JVor. One would suppose that it is scarcely pos * 
sibie a single drop of the blood of the Greedy s could 
be found in young Mr. Lovely ; he seems to be of 
such a beautiful turn of mind. But he has the satis- 
faction of it within himself. As to such wretched 
creatures as the alderman, it is a righteous judgment 
of God, that everv evil should be attended with its 
own punishment. 

Free. I have that opinion of Mr. George Lovely v 
that, if ever he possesses any part of the lamily pro- 
perty, he will be a shining character. I hope, sir, 
his tender delicate wife is upon the recovery, since 
they have been so hospitably received in your delight- 
ful place; The scenery is very enchanting. 

Wor. Yes, sir, she is considerably better. 

Free. I am sure, if she recovers her health any 
where, no place can be better calculated than this 
for the purpose. 



181 



VFor. Yes, sir, the kind providence of God has fa- 
voured us with a pleasant situation* If you are not 
too much tired after your ride, perhaps you would 
like a w^alk ; for you must not leave me till you 
have seen the Lovelys. 



The proposal was agreed to. As the conversation 
only turned upon the beautiful prospects, and the 
elegant, yet romantic views about BrookfiekPHall, 
it need not be repeated. I should judge, however, 
some of my readers may suppose I have reported 
what has been sufficient to startle their credulity, 
respecting the remarkable covetousness of the old 
Grediton alderman. Should it also be suspected 
that I may have blended two or three known cha- 
racters into one, the reader shall enjoy his own con- 
jecture. After all, let him remember the w r ell au- 
thenticated characters of the late Mr. Elwes (though 
for many years in parliament for Berkshire :) the 
famous Baron D'Aguilar, belonging to the Starva- 
tion Farm Yard, near Islington : that filthy old 
(Economist, Daniel Dancer, Esq. late of Pinner, in 
Middlesex ; who, at times, literally lived on carrion, 
and actually died in a sack about nine years ago, 
though worth three thousand pounds annually ; his 
sister also being just such another (Economist as 
himself: and that a living witness of the same sort 
of unaccountable (Economy still exists, in the keeper 
of the dirty -warehouse, in Leadenhali street : and 
then I believe it will be acknowledged, that the 
character of the miser, as exemplified in the Gredi- 
ton alderman, is by no means caricatured, the ge- 
neral conduct of others of the same tribe beinc: 
brought into consideration. 

Let the present subject be concluded, with a re- 
mark of the inimitable Bishop Hail. — " The cp- 



182 

vetous man Is like the spicier ; he does nothing but 
lay his nets to catch every fly, gaping only for a 
booty of gain ; so yet more, in that whilst he makes 
nets for these flies, he consumeth his own bowels, 
so that which is his life is his death ; and yet he is 
least to be pitied, because he makes himself misera- 
ble ; like wicked Ahab, the sight of another's vine- 
yard turns him sick at heart ; he wants it for himself. 
He hates his neighbours as bad as he is hated by 
them, and would .sell his best friend, if he had one, 
for a groat. He pines his body that he may damn 
his soul; and whenever disappointed of his fexpected 
gain, through the accursed discontent of his mind, 
he would dispatch himself, but that he is loath to 
castaway money on a cord.' 5 



%m 



DIALOGUE XXVI. 



BETWEEN THE LOVELYS, THE FAMILY OF THE 
WORTHYS, AND MR. LOVEGOOD. 



CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THEIR DEPARTURE FROM 
BROOKFIELD HALL. 

ABOUT ten days after the event of the former 
dialogue, the Lovelys still continued at Brook- 
field Hall. Their design was to have provided for 
themselves some little retired cot in the village, and 
having fixed upon one that suited their taste, they 
were about to fit it up in the style of those who find 
much happiness in a little, provided they are blessed 
with happiness in themselves ; while this step was 
not less satisfactory to the Worthys, who did all in 
their power to forward their design. The only con- 
ditions were, that as Mr. Lovely was not as yet 
thoroughly settled respecting the divinity of the 
respectable Dr. Orderly, he might now-and-then 
attend his church on die Sabbath-day. Even as 
yet Mr. Lovely seemed scarcely beaten out of all 
his strong holds of confidence in himself; for, to 
the very last week of his continuance in those parts, 
he was somewhat inclined to keep up his opposi- 
tion to the Gospel 'way of salvation by Jesus Christ ; 
and, therefore, tried if he could not do more by 
his pen in his chamber than he could by conver- 
sation. All this he intended for the perusal of 
Mr. Lovegood ; yet the more he studied the Bible, 
to make it compatible with his own sentiments, the 
more he was contused ; and the more he wrote the 



184 

less he liked it ; till at length he -was obliged t© 
commit all his writings to the flames, and soon be- 
came as humble and as lowly as a child ; while he 
could scarce speak against his stout opposition to 
these things to. Mrs. Lovely without a tear starting 
from his eye, that ever he should have given her a 
moment's grief on that subject ; intermixed with 
holy gratitude, that now the silken cords of Gospel 
love had united them still more than ever in heart 
and affection to each other, through the powerful 
influences of that love which makes us all one in 
Christ Jesus. 

Mr. Lovegood's mind, at the same time, was led 
out in great thankfulness for these fresh instances 
of divine mercy, manifested through him as a mi- 
nister of the word of life. But, alas, very soon af- 
ter this an unexpected summons to Mr. and Mrs. 
Lovely made a separation immediately necessary. 
The post, with the tidings of his great uncle's dan- 
gerous illness, reached Brookneld on the evening 
of the Sunday ; and Mr. Lovegood was sent to that 
evening, to breakfast with the family on the Mon- 
day morning, that he might be with them at the 
time of their departure. Such an interesting and 
sympathetic union had now taken place between 
all parties as rendered this last interview very af- 
fecting. The reader, therefore, must expect the 
language to be very broken. 

Lovely. [ With his eyes embossed with tears, to Mr. 
Worthy. ,] Dear sir, what shall I say to you for ail 
the great love and kindness with which you have fa- 
voured us poor outcast strangers, since we have been 
in these parts ? 

Wo?\ Say, sir; why, nothing. — Don't you think 
our pleasure has been as great as yours, in being fa- 
voured with you and Mrs. Lovely as our guests ? 

Lovely. Sir, I cannot teii how perverse and un- 



185 

kind I seem to have been in holding such arguments 
against you and Mr. Lovegood, upon matters, I now 
find, I so ill understood. 

JVor. Dear sir, you could not have been more 
perverse than I was, till the grace of God, accom- 
panying his truth, compelled me to yield. At one 
time I was so exasperated against Mr. Lovegood, 
when he first came to be our vicar, that I had a great 
inclination to write to the bishop against him ; while 
at another time I found I had more to blame in my- 
self than in Mr. Lovegood's preaching. 

Mrs. Lovely. My dear George, don't be grieved; 
for I know you did not mean to offend Mr. Worthy, 
Mr. Lovegood, or any one else by what you said ; 
and you have often told me so of late; though I 
was, at times, exceedingly sorry to hear you argue so 
strenuously for what I then thought you would soon 
acknowledge to be wrone;. 

Lovely. Yes, my dear, I was wrong ; I am now 
convinced I was wrong. I am ashamed that 1 have 
been such a strenuous advocate for such a cause ; 
and I am grieved at the perverseness with which I 
carried it on ; but still I would not but have visited 
Brookiield for ail the world. 

Loveg. Indeed, my dear sir, these controversial 
conversations, if they deserve that name, as they have 
been carried on between us, have affected us in a 
very different point of view. We were happy to find 
you so inquisitive upon the subject, and that you 
were so determined to feel your ground every step 
you trod : it is nothing better than a mark of folly 
and hypocrisy to yield without conviction. 

Mrs. Lovely. Why then, dear sir, I am afraid I 
may not be right ; for 1 plainly saw, what a state of 
ignorance I was in from the very first time I heard 
you preach. 

Loveg. My dear madam, you must not admit 

Vol. II. R 



186 

such a thought for a moment. Was not Lydia y s 
heart opened by the Lord the instant she heard the 
preaching of Paul at Philippi ? I have known some 
who have drawn the most terrible conclusions against 
themselves, because they have not felt all those hor- 
rors of mind, which some may unguardedly speak of, 
under the first discovery of the evils of their hearts, 
while, after all, nothing but love converts the soul, 
and constrains us to obey. 

Lovely. Well, well ; what a providence it was that 
when we designed to have travelled to Ruckford, we 
should have missed our way so as to take the road to 
Mapleton ! But I now trust it was, that we might 
find our way, to be brought to see what we never 
might have known, had it not been for this merciful 
event. Dear sir, let me again ask, what return can 
I ever make to yourself and family for all your un- 
common hospitality and kindness ? 
^JFor. Sir, it is all settled, if you give us a promise 
that you will repeat your visit as speedily as you can. 

Mrs, and Miss Wor. And we must insist upon it 
that you bring Mrs. Lovely with you. 

Mrs. Lovely. O madam, to my latest moments, 
and 1 trust to all eternity, I never shall be able to 
express the gratitude of my heart for the mercies of 
this visit. 

Lovely. Ah, madam, my dear wife will never 
start any objection against that proposal. We were 
obliged to surmount many difficulties before our 
union could be accomplished, and now we feel 
doubly united I cannot doubt but that the reli- 
gion of the Bible will make us the happiest pair 
upon earth. [To Mrs. Lovely, taking her by the 
handr\ My dear, you were right and I was wrong. 
Forgive me that Thave contradicted you so often ; 
I am sorry for it. [He stifles his grief ] and addresses 
Mr. Lovegood.~] Dear sir, I bless God a thousand 
times that ever I knew you. At first, I confess, I 



187 

was very angry with you, because the mind of my 
dear wife was so much discomposed by what you 
said. When I think of my inconsiderate conduct it 
cuts me to the heart. Impute it to my ignorance 
and forgive me. But I can assure you, I never 
parted with one I loved so much, since I have seen 
into the pride and presumption. of my wicked heart. 
[Mr. Ijovegoody quite overcome by the address, could 
make no answer, but retired out of the roorn.~\ 

Wor. [To Lovely.^ Sir, your conversation acts 
too powerfully on the feelings of that good man. 

Lovely. Yes, sir. And it was but a little time 
ago, that I was jealous and suspicious of every word 
he said. And what pains I took to persuade my 
dear wife to leave your house, that I might have 
her at a distance from hearing those blessed truths, 
which I now leave with such regret ? But I can- 
not express what I feel in being deprived of such an 
instructor, just as I have discovered how ignorant 
and ill -instructed I have been all the days of my 
life. This painful circumstance affects me more 
than I can express. And what a scene will be ex- 
hibited before me if I find my old uncle on this side 
of the eternal world, while I feel myself so incapable 
of instructing him, and he at the same time so unfit 
to die ! 

^ Wor. Oh, sir, as your servant is to follow you 
with your vehicle, he will have room to carry with 
him some of the publications of our good old divines, 
such as Hall, Davenant, Usher, Leighton, and other 
excellent bishops, who were the reaf advocates of the 
doctrines of the reformation, and others, not less 
eminent, though less dignified : and let these, dear 
sir, be your instructors till we see you again : go 

into my library, and pick you out a good lot of 
them — But I am sorry you have cause to apprehend 
so much, as it respects the state of your uncle's 
mind. 



188 

Lovely. Oh, sir, I should be ashamed to tell all I 
know or think of him. [To his rvife.'] My dear 
creature, what shall we say to him, should we find 
him alive ? Oh what would I give, if that dear man, 
who has now left the room, could but go with us ! 

TVor. Why, sir, though we are always very sorry 
to part with Mr. Lovegood ; yet, for the good of 
others, I should suppose such an event is by no 
means impracticable ; and I dare say, if Mr. Love- 
good can but procure the assistance of Mr. Good- 
man, who is at present disengaged, having been 
turned ouL of his curacy by his rector, he, on his 
own part, will have no objection. 

Mrs. Lovely. Dear sir, what a joy it would be 
to us both, to be favoured with such a companion ! 
As we are all of us but slender, and as we must tra- 
vel post, we shall find quite sufficient room in the 
chaise. 

Lovely. Oh sir, if this plan can but be accom- 
plished, how happy it would make us ! Perhaps 
Mr. Saveall, the rector of Grediton might lend him 
his pulpit. I cannot think there are a set of people 
upon the earth that want such preaching more than 
them : the town is full of the most wretched worldly- 
minded misers that ever existed : excepting my dear 
wife's father, and a very few more, they are almost 
all alike. 

Mrs. Lovely. Why you know, my dear, if Mr. 
Saveall won't let Mr. Lovegood preach, your father 
may succeed with Doctor Nescience, though he 
would not have so large a congregation in the village 
of Fairfield. But, oh, how happy should I be, if the 
people in our parts were but to hear what we have 
heard since our visit to Brookfieid ! 

Lovely: Ah, my dear, instead of talking about 
getting pulpits for Mr. Lovegood-, we must first see 
if we can get Lim to go with us. We shall have no 
time to accomplish such a plan, unless we set about 



189 

it directly ; for though the days are long, yet we 
have a journey of above sixty miles before us. 

Wor. Then, sir, we must make the more speed, 
that we may see what can be done ; perhaps we may 
settle matters in less time than you. think for. [J4r. 
Lovegood is again immediately called in. ] 

Mrs. Wor. Come, sir, wipe your eyes, and hear 
the proposal we have to make to you. 

Loveg. Sir, I cannot stand it, if Mr. Lovely ad- 
dresses me in such a manner. 

Wor. Well, sir ; but he is going to address you 
on another subject, and in another manner. 

Lovely. Will you, my dear sir, go with us to Gre- 
diton ? 

Mrs. Lovely. O, dear sir ! dont say No. I beseech 
you, come with us! 

Mr. Loveg. But what must I do about my church? 
And then there is poor Mrs. Lovegood, and her 
little ones. 

Wor. Oh, sir ! there is Mr. Goodman, I dare say 
he is still disengaged ; I'll send a note to him, if 
you'll write it, and order a man and horse to go with 
it to Mapleton directly. And as to Mrs. Lovegood, 
w r e'll be sure to pay her due attendance till your re- 
turn. Nothing can make these dear young people 
so happy, as to be favoured with your company. 

Loveg. Really, sir, such a hasty proposal quite 
staggers me. I feel much inclined to go, but I wish 
to consider a little. 

Wor. O, sir, for the present you must put consi- 
deration quite out of the question. These dear 
young people will want a friend and an adviser with 
them, and there is no one that can do so well — But I 
must not say too much before your face. 

Loveg. Sir, you know I cannot be absent above a 
week or ten days. 

Wor. [To Mr. Lovely. ~\ Sir, that Mr. Lovegood 
may not interrupt time by his talk, you write a note 

R 2 



190 

directly to Mr. Goodman, and request him, in the 
name of all of us, to serve Mr. Lovegood's church next 
Sunday : you know him, as he dined with us on Fri- 
day last, but be sure take care you don't direct it to 
Mr. Doiittle, or Mr. Spiteful. [They all smile.] 

JLoveg. Dear, sir, you press matters very close 
upon me ; but will it be worth while to take so long 
a journey for so short a time? 

Wor. Why suppose you were to be absent two 
Sundays instead of one, if Mr. Goodman can supply 
ibr you ; though we are sorry to part with you, yet 
you n'ever can do good but at one place at the same 
time. If I had your old honest friend Mr. Slapdash 
here, I should not have had half the trouble to have 
persuaded him to take the same journey, under the 
same providential calls. 

Loveg. Ah, Mr. Slapdash! dear honest man, I 
know how I want his constitutional zeal. 

Wor. Then borrow some of mine ; you know, at 
times, a rapid fit overtakes me. Come, come, go 
home directly to Mrs. Lovegood, pack up your little 
matters, and by that time my servant will have re- 
turned with an answer, and depend upon it that all 
is right in a way of providence, if Mr. Goodman can 
supply for you till your return : if he cannot, I shall 
agree with you, that your parochial situation provi- 
dentially prevents the journey. 

Lovely s. [Both together.'] Oh do, do, dear sir, go 
home directly, and prepare for the journey ; we 
don't care if we travel all night, if we can but have 
you with us. 

Loveg. Well, well, I find I must submit. I'llgohome, 
and return as soon as I can. The Lord direct us ! 

The dialogue shall conclude with a copy of Mr. 
Lpvely's note to Mr. Goodman : 

" DEAR SIR, 

* c If you can shew the greatest instance of your tru- 



191 

ly christian affection to a poor bewildered youth, who 
begins to find his way out of a labyrinth of errors, 
through the blessing of God on Mr: LovegoocPs 
preaching and conversation, may I humbly request 
you to serve his church for him while he favours me 
with his presence and pious advice to Grediton, where 
I am called immediately to attend, by a letter di- 
rected to be written to me by the dying request of 
my great uncle. Dear sir, accept this small token * 
of respect, as you have suffered so much from your 
virtuous and steady conduct on behalf of our blessed 
Redeemer's Gospel, 

I am, Sir, 
With real esteem, 

Your affectionate friend, 
and humble servant, 
GEORGE LOVELY." 

Matters were thus speedily settled, Mr. Goodman 
engaged to supply for Mr. Lovegood, whereby he 
seemed fully satisfied that he should take the jour- 
ney. This greatly softened many painful sensations 
respecting the separation. A few sympathetic tears 
were indeed dropt between Mrs. Lovely and Miss 
Worthy, who began to feel themselves as much 
united as though they had been sisters ; and after all 
things were thus completely settled, a very appro- 
priate prayer was offered up, and the following part- 
ing hymn was sung, which Mr. Lovegood, being 
possessed of a ready knack of rhyming, gave out as 
an extempore production on this occasion : 

Holy Saviour ! Israel's guide ! 
Thee we trust, and none beside : 
Never let us run astray 
From thyself, the living way. 

* The present was a two-pound note. 



192 

CalPd by thine unerring hand, 
We would bend to thy command ; 
Let our willing hearts fulfil 
All wejknow to be thy will. 

Guarded by the cheerful light 
Of thy beams, divinely bright, 
May we tread the paths of peace, 
Till we reach the realms of bliss ! 

O'er our souls divinely move, 
Shelter us, thou God cf love : 
Underneath thy wings may we 
Love, and serve, and worship thee.. 

Let thy providence direct, ^ 
Let thy powerful arm protect : 
Thus our gracious Leader be, 
While we humbly follow thee. 

Soon after this the chaise drove to the door ; ho- 
nest Edward, of the Golden Lion, came up with it, 
that he might take his last farewel of this most plea- 
sant pair, thanking God that ever he should have 
been favoured with such guests, and sending after 
them a thousand blessings wherever they might go. 
The final salutation between the families next took 
place, intermixed with many tears ; after which the 
chaise drove off with its most valuable contents, 
leaving the writer a little respite till Mr. Lovegood's 
return from Grediton, when a further narration of 
events may be expected by the reader. 



193 



DIALOGUE XXVII. 



BETWEEN MR. MERRYMAN, MR. LOVEGrOOD* 
AND THE FAMILY OF ■ THE WORTHYS. 



CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THE AWFUL DEATH OF 
MR. GREEDY, GREAT UNCLE OF MR. LOVELY. 

AN absence of about ten days engaged Mr. Love- 
good's attention before his return from his ex- 
cursion with the Lovely s, and, on the morning after 
his return, he called at Brookfield Hall. 
\Mr. Worthy meets Mr. Lovegood at the Hall door. ~\ 

JVor. How do you do, my dear sir ? You are wel- 
come home. Come in ; we have no one in the 
breakfast room but mv wife and daughter, and Mr. 
Merryman ; and I am sure they will be all glad to see 
you. 

Loveg. Sir, I hope you are all well. 

Wor. All well, I thank you, sir; but we are a 
little busy in settling matters previous to the mar- 
riage of my daughter. Mr. Merryman won't be 
contented any longer without her. In regard to 
worldly circumstances, she misiit have met with a 
more eligible match ; but we shall not thwart the 
young people in their inclinations. My daughter 
seems quite in love with him ; in short, we are all in 
love with him. He is an excellent young man. 

Loveg. Sir, it is very kind of you and Mrs. Wor- 
thy, not to throw any impediment in their way ; I 



194 

have no doubt but that they will be very happy to- 
gether. 

Wor. Between friends, I don't suppose he will 
leave our house till he has taken my daughter with 
him, so that, in a day or two, you will have that of- 
fice to perform. \They enter the breakfast-room.^ 

Mrs. Wor. Weil, Sir, we are all happy to see you 
back again : but how did you leave those charming 
creatures, the Lovely s ? 

Loveg. O, madam! they have been uncommonly 
agitated by their great uncle's death. 

Wor. Did you find him alive when you arrived? 

Loveg. Madam, he lived four days after we came 
there. 

Wor. Then you can tell us something about him. 

Loveg. The very recollection of what I have seen 
and heard, makes me tremble; the horrors of his 
conscience were inexpressible. 

* Merry m. I should rather have supposed that he 
would have left the world stupified and senseless, 
through his great age and weakness. 

Loveg. His faculties seemed to be very little im- 
paired, indeed ; but the dreadful state of his mind 
was beyond description. 

Wor. What, was that the case during all his ill- 
ness? 

Loveg. By what I could learn, he had been very 
low and dejected for above a month ; though he lived 
in such a wretched mean way, that no one thought 
it worth their while to enquire after him, or come to 
see him. 

Merry m. How then could you get any informa- 
tion respecting the state of his mind ? 

Loveg. All that we could know about him was 
from the Doctor, and a poor old woman who waited 
upon him ; but we had sufficient specimens of the 



155 

horrid state of his mind during the four last days of 
his life. 

Wor. I suppose you called on him directly as you 
arrived. 

Loveg. No, sir ; we first went to Mr. Commerce, 
Mrs. Lovely's fflther, who seems to me to be almost 
the only respectable person in the town. 

Wor. What sort of a town is it then ? 

Loveg. Sir, I hope there is not such another town 
to be found : It is filled with the most contemptible 
set of misers that ever lived. There are in it very 
large families of the Pinchpoors, the Gripelands, and 
the Graspalls; the Sharpers, the Closefists, the 
Hoarders, the Trickers, the Sells, the Squeezers, 
the Grinders, the Scrapers, the Skinflints, and the 
Pennymans, the rule of whose family is never to 
spend a penny if they can save it ; the whole town, 
almost, has been in the possession of the Greedys for 
some centuries. In old writings, it was, it "seems, 
originally called Greedytown, only the inhabitants 
have softened the name ; and what is still more curi- 
ous, the family of the Savealls, who are very nume- 
rous indeed in that town, first got possession of the 
living so long ago as when such multitudes of mini- 
sters were ejected from their livings, in the reign of 
Charles the Second; and so it has been contrived, 
that the living has continued in the same family ever 
since. 

Merry m. What a horrid condition the people must 
be in, while under the care of such a minister ! 

Loveg. Oh, sir, they are wonderfully pleased with 
him ; his sort of sermons just suit their taste ; he is 
always expatiating on the evils of extravagance, on 
the virtues of forecast and frugality, and on the ex- 
cellencies and necessity of good economy. 

Wor. How can Mr. Commerce bear to live with 
such a set ? 



196 

JLoveg. Sir, he is very glad he has it to say that 
his family are not among the natives of the town, 
though there is some reason to apprehend that he 
has caught, at least, a little of the contagion belong- 
ing to the place, (to Mr. Worthy,) I think, Sir, it 
would kill you, if you were to attempt to live there 
for a month, it is situated in such a sad cold barren 
spot ; and though very large, as you may suppose 
from the families that live in it, yet it is a miserable, 
mean, dirty looking place. Mr. Lovely's father, • 
though Fairfield, where he lives, is above six miles 
from Grediton, can scarcely bear his house while the 
wind sits that way, it is so very offensive to his con- 
stitution. 

Mrs. Wor. Did Mr. Lovely spend no time at his 
great uncle's house while you were at Grediton ? 

JLoveg. Why, madam, it is impossible to describe 
the miserable mean way in which he lived. The 
bed on which he died, and all the furniture of the 
room, could not, I am satisfied, have been worth 
twenty shillings : we were obliged to live entirely 
with Mr. Commerce. 

Mrs. Wor. But we w r antto know how you got an 
interview with him. 

Loveg. (Jli, madam, it was with great difficulty, 
indeed ; for his nephew, the Esquire, as he is called, 
who lives at Grediton House, the old family seat, 
about a mile and a half from the town, sent Mr. 
Quirk, his lawyer, to tell him that, as he was soon 
likely to die, he wished to die in peace with him. 
And this was all with a design to get his money 
from him ; for he was to remind the old man that he 
was next akin. 

Wor. These tricks are just what I should expect 
from such a set. 

Loveg. But here, sir, there w 7 as trick upon trick, 
for before Mr. Quirk performed his oiiice for his 



197 

client, he first began tampering with. Mr. Lovely, 
telling him his errand ; and that if he would only 
give him a thousand pounds, the will should bejnade 
entirely in his favour. 

Merry m. I'll engage for it, Mr. Lovely would 
never submit to such a detestable design. 

Loveg. Sir, before Mr. Lovely went to his great 
uncle's he told me of the proposal; and we both 
agreed that such a transaction, for the sake of mo- 
ney, might justly be deemed a scandalous juggle. 

War. That amiable youth, I believe, would rather 
suffer any thing than submit to any action which was 
dirty and unjust; so that here it should appear he was 
likely to have another sacrifice to make, nearly as 
costly as the former. 

Loveg. Oh no, sir ; this w r as only a trick of Mr. 
Quirk's ; for the old man, having had several sharp 
contests with his nephew, the Esquire, about money 
matters, was ever determined to make Mr. Lovely 
his heir. However, I advised Mr. Lovely by no 
means to suffer Mr. Quirk to go alone to his great 
uncle, that he might prevent any underhand deal- 
ings ; so they went both of them together, and Mr. 
Lovely told me as soon as they entered the room he 
groaned inexpressibly, and cried — " Oh, nephew ! I 
must die, I know I must die : and oh, that dreadful 
moment !" Mr. Quirk then interrupted him, and said 
Sir, I am come with your nephew, Mr. Greedy 's re- 
spects, that he hopes you have forgiven him, and 
that you die in peace with him ; and it is to be hop- 
ed, sir, according to these principles of mutual for- 
giveness, you have settled your affairs. He took 
him up very hastily, and said, ' ' What do you ask me 
that question for?" Mr. Quirk made answer, that he 
only wished to remind him, that his nephew was 
nearer akin than Mr. Lovely. Immediately, though 

Vol. II. S 



198 

quite in despair, he swore at him several times, call- 
ing him rascal, and said that he should leave all to 
vouno- George. 

Merrym. Could the lawyer stand all this ? 

Loveg. Sir, he immediately retired, and Mr. 
Lovely and the old woman were left in the room 
alone, while he continued cursing the designs of the 
lawyer in the profanest manner. 

Wor. Was this pi ofane way of talk what he in ge- 
neral accustomed himseii to? 

Loveg. When he was in a passion, he would at 
times be very reprobate ; but in general he did not 
adopt this infernal language. It was, however, a 
most awful circumstance, that, when the horrors of 
his conscience were the most dreadful, his language 
would be the most profane. 

Wor. I fear, then, it was a difficult matter for you 
to get an introduction to him. 

Loveg. Sir, Mr. Lovely first opened the business 
by saying, he would wish to introduce to him a cler- 
gyman of his acquaintance, as he appeared near 
death. He cried, " What good can such men do for 
me, many of whom are as wicked as myself?" Mr; 
Lovely then pleaded for my admission, as being one 
of a different character; and then he cried, " O 
God ! could I find the man, though at the distance 
of a thousand miles, who could quell the hell I feel 
within, how giadly would I send for him J " Mr. Love- 
ly kindly answ ered — Sir, if any man upon earth can 
relieve the agonies of your mind, it is the minister 
that I now wislryou to see ; and, in consequence of 
this, I was admitted to see him. 

Wor. I fear it was an awful sight. 

Loveg. The most awful I ever saw. His first 
speech was — " Sir, if there be an eternal world, you 
see a wretch sinking into eternal woe." He appeal'- 



199 

Gd almost distracted with despair ; the stare of his 
eyes was most dreadful. 

JVor. How could you answer him in such a state ? 

Loveg. Sir, the only remedy you know that can 
be applied, is the gospel. I told him that all the 
free mercies of redemption were revealed to penitent 
believers in the Lord Jesus, and that even these 
graces, whereby sinners are brought to Christ, are 
the entire gift of God : and that Jesus Christ had in 
his heart compassion to the vilest of our race. 

Merry m. And what was his answer ? 

Loveg. He cried—" I have for a long time been 
endeavouring to think there never was such a person 
as Jesus Christ ; or that he was some enthusiastical 
impostor of the day ; for oh, how I have hated his doe- 
trine, and that of his disciples !"■ Then he paused, 
and stammered out, from the best of his recollection, 
these passages from scripture, " Do unto others, as 
ye would they should do unto you. " — " Love not the 
world, nor the things that are in the world."—" Co- 
vetousness, which is idolatry. 5 ' — " If a man see his 
brother in need, and shut up his bowels of compas- 
sion, how dwelleth the love of God in him !" He 
then cried, " O God ! What shall I do, when I am 
called to stand before such a judge." 

IVor. I fear, then, he had been hardened in his 
wickedness by the infidel system of the day. 

Loveg. Sir, I b- iieve he attempted to stand by it as 
long as he could : but then, like Voltaire, D'Alem- 
bert, and many others, he was obliged to give up all 
his infidel principles before he died. 

Mrs. Wor. Well, well ; God give us a religion 
which will do to live by ; and that will prove the best 
to die by ! 

Loveg. True, dear madam ; but, from what I 
could find, he was not a Deist, though I believe, 



200 

like all those " who chuse darkness rather than light 
because their deeds are evil, 5 ' he tried, to the utmost 
of his power, to be one. 

Merrym. In that respect I was quite like him when 
I was living in sin ; I could never bear to believe that 
the Bible was true, and I have wished it false a thou- 
sand times. 

Loveg. I remember a remark of his on this very 
subject, which made me shudder. He cried, in his 
most reprobate language : " How could I fc>£ such 
a fool, to believe the Bible was lake, only be- 
cause it threatens eternal damnation against such 
hard-hearted monsters as myself !" And at another 
time, he cried — " How must I be hated of Christ, 
who preached and recommended nothing but mercy, 
while throughout all my life I have been as cruel as 
the Devil himself ! " And when I again attempted to 
tell him of the infinite ability of Christ " to save to 
the uttermost, 55 he shook \m head, and said, " I have 
ever hated him, and loved nobody but myself; and 
now I shall be eternally hated by him." At another 
time, he cried, " I have lived on earth to starve my 
body, and oppress the poor, for which I am now go- 
ing to receive the eternal damnation of my soul." 

Wor. What a proof is this of the hnpoitance of 
those words, " What shall it profit a man, ii he shall 
gain the whole world and lose his own soui ; or v, hat 
shall a man give in exchange for his soul !" 

Loveg. He was made to feel the sting of those 
words inexpressibly ; v for he said, among other things, 
f> though there was a time when 1 had almost as soon 
have parted with my life as my money; vet! oh! 
what would I not now give, it I could but purchase 
a short respite from the grave !— lam going, I ieell 
am going, and I know not where : but, by grasping 
after earth, I have lost heaven, and must lose them 
bodi eternally." 



201 

Merry m. What a horrid witness this poor wretch- 
ed creature bore against himself! 

Loveg. The most horrid that can be conceived. 
Once, it seems, after he had lain some time as in a 
slumber, though intermixed with sad' ana heavy 
groans, he was asked if his sleep had not done him 
some good? He immediately cried — " What rest 
could I find in sleep, while all the time I thought I 
was cast u into outer darkness, to be tortured with 
Devils and damned spirits, where there shall be weep- 
ing and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, — where the 
worm dieth not, and where the fire is not quenched. " 
O, that pit of hell ! I thought I was falling in it, and 
that I should be falling to all eternity, because it is 
the pit that is bottomless. Oh that I could but be- 
lieve what some have said, " Death is an eternal 
sleep. " 

Wor. What then, could you get him to receive 
no word of consolation ? 

Loveg. Every word I attempted to put into his 
mind by way of consolation, he would immediately 
turn against himself. When I said that though Christ 
was a tremendous judge to the wicked, yet to the 
penitent, he would be a most merciful and gracious 
mediator. He immediately cried u I a penitent! 
No, my heart is as hard as a stone : I dread Hell, but 
I cannot repent of sin." " I shall have thousands to 
witness against me." Then he stammered out — " I 
was hungered, and ye gave rue no meat : I was 
thirsty, and ye gave me no drink : I w r as a stranger, 
and ye took me not in.: naked, and ye clothed 
me not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not." 
What, then, can screen me from the sentence 1 shall 
hear so soon : " Depart from me, ye cursed, into 
everlasting fire, prepared for the Devil and Ills an- 
gels?" 

Mrs. [For. How awfullv he bore witness against 

S 2 



202 

himself. But it is remarkable that he should have 
been able to quote the Scriptures so correctly ; one 
would have thought that his wickedness would have 
kept him from reading the Bible. 

Loveg. Oh, madam ! many as wicked as the old 
Alderman will read the Scriptures if it be only for 
the sake of turning them into ridicule : but he was to- 
lerably regular at his church, for that cost him no- 
thing, and thereby he kept up appearances : and you 
know there is a deal of Scripture read in our church 
service : and there he would sit in his Alderman's 
gown as demure and apparently as devout as if he 
had been the best christian in the parish. 

Wor. I suppose the Rector would highly compli- 
ment him on this account. 

Loveg. Mr. Saveall would be frequently saying he 
was a very good churchman, though a little too mean. 

Wor. Would he suffer you to go to prayer with 
him before you left him. 

Loveg. Though he seemed to abhor the thoughts 
of prayer, yet we were determined not to leave the 
room without it. But how awfully he interrupted 
us by his screams and exclamations, crying, " O 
God, what I feel ! I feel Hell already ; the wrath of 
God abidethon me." So that it appeared in vain to 
attempt to pray with him. 

. Merry m. What a hopless case ! How could you 
and Mr. Lovely bear such an awful sight ? 

Loveg. Sir, poor Mr. Lovely was almost overset 
by it, as well as myself. However, after this we de- 
parted, and repeated our visit the next day. 

Wor. Did he still continue in the same horrid 
frame of mind? 

Loveg. Not in the least better, and worse he could 
not be. When his nephew asked him if he had had 
any sleep, he immediately cried — " Sleep ! how can I 
sleep, while I have the cries of Farmer Needy 5 s widow 



203 

in my ears ; when it was almost but the other day 
that I stript her of all she had, by enforcing a bond 
in judgment against her? and what mercy can I ex- 
pect from God, while I could harden my heart 
against the widow's cries ; and while her poor daugh- 
ter was upon her knees, with four of her children, 
and another at her breast, begging for mercy, as it 
was her father's long illness, and other misfortunes, 
and by no means their own neglect, that had plung- 
ed them into poverty ?" — He paused, and added, yes, 
I believe I did sleep for about half an hour, and then 
I thought 1 was the rich man in Hell, lifting up my 
eyes in eternal torments, crying for a drop of water 
to cool the tip of my tongue : and while I thought 
how grievously I was tormented in that flame, I 
awoke," — It seems scarcely possible that any one 
could live in a more dreadful state of despair. 

Wor. I should suppose these keen and cutting re- 
flections against himself arose from many other in- 
stances of his oppressive conduct, besides that which 
you have mentioned before. 

Loveg. O, sir; he began repeating several of 
them. One, I remember was, that when a man, 
though but in poor circumstances, left him in his 
will five pounds for some law expences, he being 
the maker of the will, inserted, in the room of it 
fifty pounds. Thus the man, being too far gone 
through illness to attend to his tricks, gave away half 
as much as he had in the world, from his poor rela- 
tions. But how terribly he cried out on account of 
his cruel conduct against one Isaac Careful, a tenant 
of his, whom he sent to gaol because he would not 
give up a few trifling leaseholds which were settled 
upon his wife and children, though he oniy was re^ 
duced to poverty by a loss through fire, and was in 
himself a verv industrious man? 



204 

Wor. How could Mr. Lovely bear to hear him 
relate his horrid tricks ? 

Loveg. Sir, I never saw a poor youth so agitated 
in my life- His dreadful cries, at intervals, against 
himself, and concerning the agonies of his conscience, 
were most tremendous. When I once said, sir, 
yet there may be hope; he cried, " O God! (which 
was his common exclamation,) it is impossible — I 
am sure it is impossible — and I am as sure to be m 
Hell as if I was there already ; and the smoke of my 
torment will be ascending up for ever and ever. " Just 
about that time the nurse stirred the fire ; and as it 
began to blaze, he cried — " What would I give, 
if I might but burn on that fire for ten thousand 
years, so as to escape the eternal damnation of my 
soui ! 

Miss Wor. Dear sir ! his expressions are so un- 
commonlv dreadful, that I fear I must quit the room 
if I hear any more of them, it makes me so nervous. 

Merrym. Why, my dear Miss Worthy, we may 
profit by these alarming lessons, as well as by others 
which are grateful and pleasing. What a wonderful 
contrast between the death of poor Mr. Chipman, 
and that of this old miser ! 

Wor. Well, for the sake of my daughter, and in- 
deed on account of all our feelings, I shall only ask if 
he said any thing better in his last moments before 
his dissolution. 

Lav eg. Sir, I was not then in the room, but it 
seems for the two last days he was in a measure 
senseless : ' still he groaned horribly, frequently add- 
ing that most profane expression, which wq so 
commonly hear > — " D — n it, that ever I was 
born!" and when the nurse, who attended him, a 
little aroused him, by wiping the phlegm from his 
mouth which prevented his breathing, he used the 



205 

same horrible expression, adding, u — what are 
you at?" Soon afterwards he died; and these, it 
ssems, were the last words he ever uttered in life. 
Oh, what horrid expressions for a dying man ! It is 
enough to chill one's very blood. 

Wor. Was Mr. Lovely with him when he died ? 

Loveg. No, sir ; his uncle's language was so dread- 
ful and profane, that he quite swore him out of the 
room. What lie said was -afterwards reported to 
him by the nurse he sent to attend hini. 

Mrs. Wor. Had he any desire to see Mrs. Lovely? 

Loveg. Sir, he asked for her several times, but we 
always made an excuse for her, saying her nerves 
were too weak to see him, unless he should get a 
little better, or should be more composed. 

Merry m. Well, I am sure we have heard enough 
of Mr. Greedy ; it is high time that we should now 
hear something of the Lovely s. \Enter servant. ~\ 

Servant. Sir, Farmer Till has brought the horse, 
if your honour would choose to look at him, 

Wor. [7b Mr. Alerryman."] Why, sir, as you are 
about to take my daughter away with you, I thought 
I would buy her a horse, that you may have no ex- 
case for not riding over frequently from Sandover, 
when you are settled there. 

Merrym. Sir, you are exceeding kind ; but we 
should mostly come over in our one-horse chaise. 

Wor. Yes, but exercise on horseback is both plea- 
sant and healthy. I would have my daughter keep 
on horseback as much as she can. I must request 
you, Mr. Merryman, to come and see how you like 
the horse ; I suppose in your gay days you used to 
attend much to the make and shape of a horse. 

Merrym. Ah, sir, much more than ever I did to 
the meaning of my Bible. 

Wor. Well, sir, we will not keep the farmer wait- 



206 



ing : we may as well all go and take a view of the 
horse, and resume the subject on our rettirn. Besides, 
I think we all need a little relaxation after this dread- 
ful account of old Greedy 's death. 



As Mr. Merryman's observations on the horse, 
relating to its beauties, its defects, its gift of move- 
ing, its price, Sec. would be very uninteresting, the 
subject will be discontinued till the next Dialogue, 
when a much a more pleasing narration will be pre- 
sented to the reader. 



297 



DIALOGUE XXVIII. 



BETWEEN MR. LQVEGOOD, MR. MERRYMAN, 
AND THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS. 



BENEVOLENCE AND HUMANITY DISPLAYED IN THE PER- 
SON AND CHARACTER OF MR. LOVELY, WITH THE CHA- 
RACTER OF DOCTOR NESCIENCE. 



THE horse-dealing business having been settled, 
the family returned, and the Dialogue recom- 
menced. 



Worthy. I suppose the old miserly uncle left the 
Loveiys a fine penny. 

Loveg. Sir, they say he has hoarded up for him 
full three thousand pounds a year. ** 

JVor. Is it possible ? 

Loveg. Yes, sir ; and his original fortune was but 
two thousand pounds, which he had when he first 
came of age ; and an old aunt (a Mrs. Pincher, it 
seems) soon afterwards left him another thousand 
pounds, all the rest he has been accumulating by 
hoarding interest upon interest, by his profession, by 
procuring for himself legacies, where he thought 
they would answer his end better than his fees, and 
a hundred dirty tricks besides. He was the most 
complete money -jobber in the kingdom. 



208 

Miss Wor. Poor honest Thomas Newman is a 
much richer man than old lawyer Greedy ever was. 

Merry m. And I really think he keeps a better 
house. 

Loveg. I am sure he keeps a cleaner house : it is a 
good old proverb, " Cleanliness is next to godliness. " 
How that filthy old creature could live so long, and 
in so mi£h dirt and poverty, is a matter of surprise to 
me ; for he had turned eighty-one before he died. 

Wor. Well, I can suppose he might have died 
worth all that property, when one considers what a 
length of time he had to make his hoard ; for it 
seems he was always getting and saving, and never 
spending. But I had much rather hear how Mr. 
Lovely is like to spend it, than how that wretched 
miser contrived to get it. 

Loveg. Sir, the old man left a very correct sche- 
dule of his possessions behind him, which Mr. Quirk 
artfully wanted to secrete. I immediately advised 
him to send for one honest lawyer, who lives a few 
miles out of that town, — Mr. Justice ; for I am sure 
the Grediton lawyers are such a set as I never heard 
of before ; they w r ere mostly tutored under old Gree- 
dy ; and I believe Mr. Justice vail prove 'a very up- 
right agent to that excellent young man. 

Wor. Well, well, there are good and bad of all 
professions. But that amiable youth must feel this 
an astonishing reverse of fortune. 

Loveg. Y^s, sir ; and, by the grace of God, I have 
a good hope, he will be enabled to carry this full cup 
of worldly prosperity with an even and a cautious 
hand. Before he opened his uncle's will, he begged 
I would go to prayer. The will contained nothing 
but that his nephew was to possess ail, with no other 
legacy than a pitiful five pounds a year to the old 
woman (one Betty Farthing) who occasionally waited 
upon him ; allowing but fifteen pounds for his fu • 



269 

nerai; which he thought might be sufficient, as he 
had preserved two large oaken planks from a car- 
penter by way of fees, out of which he directed his 
coffin should be made, and that his old morning, 
gown should save the expence of a shroud: so 
that his covetous purposes followed him to the very 
grave. 

Merrym. How could Mr. Lovely follow his direc- 
tions, as it respected the abominable mean way of his 
interment ? 

JLoveg. Oh, sir, he ordered the oaken boards to be 
nailed together, and made into a decent coffin, sent 
for an undertaker, told him that though only fifteen 
pounds were allowed for the funeral ; yet that he 
should make him a present of fifteen more, if it was 
necessary, for his own trouble, provided lie would see 
to a plain, decent, but not mean interment of his 
uncle; as he must directly go to his father's at Fair- 
rield, and should not himself attend the funeral. 
Thus matters were understood and settled between 
the undertaker and Mr. Lovely, and the old miser 
was decently interred, if you can call it a decent bu- 
siness, when there was such an horrid uproar made, 
while the bearers carried him to the grave. 

Merrym. Astonishing ! Did they insult the corpse 
of the old man while they carried it to the church- 
yard, and among a set of people so much like him- 
self? 

IjQveg. Several insulting speeches were actually 
thrown out, even by the miserable inhabitants of 
that place, as the funeral went along. One cried, 
" The Devil has been grinding him before now, for 
grinding the face of the poor.' 5 Another exclaimed, 
" The Devil has sent for his beloved son, old Greedy, 
and that he had got him at last :" and many more: 
such speeches were made. 

Merrym. It must have been rather a painful ch% 

Vol. II. T 



210 

cumstance to Mr. Lovely, to possess a fortune pro- 
cured by such abominable means. 

Loveg. Though I believe the old lawyer's plan was 
to get money by all means, whether fair or foul ; yet 
what was obtained by oppression andwTong was but 
an inconsiderable part, when compared to what he 
had accumulated by the mere art of hoarding. But 
directly as he had run over the schedule of his uncle's 
affairs, he cried, " Blessed be God, I find I shall 
have quite enough to make restitution where needed, 
to assist the poor, to shew some tokens of respect to 
my relations, and to enjoy all the comforts and con- 
veniences of life I could wish for my dearest Ann 
and myself: and O, may I spend the rest to the 
glory of God!" 

Merrym. Restitution was therefore, it seems, the 
first thing he thought of. 

Loveg. Yes ; and the first thing he practised. He 
is a youth of a most admirable mind ; for the first 
action was to restore the fifty pounds procured by the 
will of the poor man, fraudulently made by his un- 
cle ; and though he found the surviving family had 
risen since then, which was full twelve years ago, 
into very decent circumstances, yet nothing would 
content Mr. Lovely, till he had made restitution ; as 
he said he never could be happy to retain that sum 
in his possession which he had no right to call his 
own. 

Wor. This was a noble beginning ! 

Loveg. But the next action was more noble still ; 
for he could not rest till he had found out the family 
of the Needy s, which the uncle Jhad so cruelly ruined* 
about four years before his death ; and he found that 
they were removed from the parish of Grediton into 
their own parish, by one of the overseers, whose name 
was Pinchpoor ; lest they should become chargeable 
fo them, after the vile old miser had stript them of 



211 

their all. Mr. Lovely went and enquired of Mr. 
Pinchpoor about them, and found that he had sent 
them into the neighbouring parish of Starvington. 
The family, consisting of the mother, her daughter, 
her husband, and five small children, harboured in a 
miserable cottage, though in as good a plight as could 
be expected, their great poverty being taken into 
consideration; almost all their subsistence arising 
from the earnings of the husband, who was now only 
a day-labourer, the spinning of the children, and the 
parish scanty allowance of eighteen pence a week to 
the poor widow. % 

Merrym. Oh, this was charming ! and I'll warrant 
he relieved them liberally. Did he take you with 
him on this errand ? 

Loveg. Sir, he would go no where without me. 
He is become astonishingly -affectionate ; and it was, I 
think, one of the most impressive scenes I ever be- 
held. When" he first came into the house and saw 
their poverty, he gave half a crown each to three of 
the poor children, who were then at home ; and as 
he was entirely unknown to them, he asked the 
question as though he was ignorant of it himself, 
how they came to be driven out of their little farm 
after the husband's death ; and a dreadful story it 
was : for it appeared, that while the mere loan of a 
few pounds, during the hours of their calamity, 
might have kept them up, the miser's hard hand of 
oppression completely threw them down. After Mr. 
Lovely had heard their tale, he stifled his grief, 
called me out, and gave vent to the feelings of his 
mind; while he wept plentifully over the miseries of 
the family his uncle had brought to ruin. After he 
had consulted with me on the most eligible way of 
their relief, he returned, He then told them who he 
was, and that he was now possessed of ail his great 
uncle's property ; tfyat he was quite grieved zX heart 



212 



on account of what had past, and was now deter- 
mined to wipe the tear from the widow's eye, while 
he should esteem it a call in providence to superin- 
tend the good of the family as a father and a friend : 
and then a second time he began to weep. Imme- 
diately he took ten guineas put of his pocket for their 
present wants, arid promised them half a guinea a 
week till he could provide better for them in seme 
little farm that might belong to him, as soon as there 
was a vacancy, provided they proved industrious 
and worthy of his attention. 

Merrym. Sir, co^d you stand all this ? 

Loveg. Indeed, sir, I could not ; my spirits were 
so overcome by it, that I was obliged to leave the 
house a second time ; and while I was giving way to 
my feelings, in came the honest man fi om^his day- 
labour. He was not only much surprised to see me 
so affected at the door of the cottage ; but when he 
came in, he had to behold his wife and children sur- 
rounding Mr. Lovely as in an ecstacy, and the old 
woman in tears, and on her knees, blessing God for 
such unexpected mercies. He wondered for awhile 
what could be the cause. At one time he thought 
that some cruel bailiff had entered the house on ac- 
count of a few trifling debts, which had remained 
on his wife's father's account ; but when he began 
to hear the true story, who Mr. Lovely was, and on 
what errand he came, with his eyes lifted up, and 
his hands clasped together, he stood quite motion- 
less. Just then I returned into the house — I never 
saw such a scene in all my life. 

IFor. This I call the luxury of doing good. It 
may easily be decided who felt the greatest happiness, 
the, old miser in grasping after this money, or the ne- 
phew in giving it away. 

Loveg. Ah, sir, but his most delightful conduct 
towards the man his great uncle sent to gaol, poor 



213 

Isaac Careful, because he would not resign the pro- 
perty of his wife and children, was, if possible, still 
more affecting and noble. 

Miss JVor. Oh, dear sir, do let us hear it. 

Loveg. Why, madam, the anxiety of his mind, on 
that occasion, was beyond all expression. The day 
after the funeral he ordered two post-chaises ; he 
and Mrs. Lovelv went in one chaise, I and Mr. Jus- 
tice in the other, to the county gaol, ten miles from 
Grediton. Mr. Justice was directed to enter into con- 
versation with him, while Mr. and Mrs. Lovely sat 
by as entire strangers. After he had heard but a 
part of the story, he cried — Oh, Mr. Justice, let me 
hear no more : he must be discharged immediately. 
The man cried, What can all this mean ? Why, re- 
plied Mr. Justice, it means that Mr. Lovely, who 
possesses the late Mr. Greedy ? s fortune, will hayeyou 
discharged directly, that you may see your wife and 
family before sun-set. 

Mrs. Wor. Oh, what delightful tidings to a poor 
prisoner, confined at a distance from his wife arid 
family ! surely he must have been quite overcome 
by it! 

Loveg. For a while it entirely overset him. For 
immediately he fixed his eyes on Mr. Lovely, and 
almost directly afterwards quite fainted away with 
surprise and joy, and it was some time before he : 
recovered, Mr. Lovely next gave the keeper five 
guineas, to be distributed among the most neces- 
sitous of the prisoners, begging, at the same time, 
that I might be permitted to drop among them a word 
of exhortation, for their general good. This ofiice 
I performed with a considerable degree of difficu y, 
being so much affected at the scene which was b;i re 
me ; nor were most of my miserable hearers le;>: 5 , f- 
iected than ourselves: and while I was offering- up a. 

T 2 



214 

concluding prayer, especially for the p6or man who 
Was the object of such providential mercy from the 
kind hand of Mr. Lovely ; spiritualizing it at the same 
time, that every poor prisoner might seek for the 
gracious and delivering mercy of our Lord Jesus unto 
eternal life : and it is amazing what a many tears were 
shed among them. 

JVor. Nothing melts and conquers like love ! 

JLoveg. That has been proved to us by the love of 
Christ. But, oh, to see the countenance of the poor 
prisoner just brought again to the enjoyment of his 
liberty by that most delightful young man, as he 
walked from the prison to the inn, and the attention 
of Mr. Lovely in first ordering him such a meal as he 
had not tasted for many a long day before ; and then 
sending to a ready-made clothes shop, that his pre- 
sent garments might be changed for a decent suit. 
Oh, sir ! how he looked ; how he wept ; how he re- 
joiced ; how he talked, during all these most pleasing 
and generous circumstances on his behalf! 

Mcrrym. Blessed God ! what a delightful scene 
was this ! But it seems you all made quick w T ork of 
the business, if, according to promise, the poor man 
was with his wife and family by sun-set. 

JLoveg. Sir, you know the days aie yet long, and 
all matters were settled for our return in about two 
hours and a half ; and then we drove off with this rich 
booty of humanity, so well calculated to feast the 
mind of this admirable youth. Mr. and Mrs. Lovely 
took me with them in their chaise, and Mr. Justice 
and the poor man followed in the other. 

Wor. [_To Mrs. Worthy.] My dear, what makes 
you weep ? 

Mrs Wor. As a mother and a parent myself, hew 
it strikes me, what must poor CarefuPs wile have felt 
binder such an interposition of divine providence : 



215 

Oh, how delightfully surprised she must have been 
on his unexpected arrival ! was it not quite too much 
for her ? 

Loveg. Why, madam, that matter was left to me, 
to soften as well as I could ; but still the consequences 
were attended with very powerful effects. 

Wor. Come, my dear, wipe your eyes ! let us see 
if we cannot attend to them. How did you break 
matters to the family ? 

Loveg. I first went to their house, which is near a 
mile from Grediton, made an excuse for taking the 
liberty to rest myself, as the day had been very hot ; 
then I began talking to them about the death qf old 
lawyer Greedy. At once the woman began in the 
severest language, execrating his horrid memory, 
and especially his cruelty against them. 1 endea- 
voured to correct her vehemence ; and then asked 
her if she had heard of young Mr. Lovely, who had 
succeeded to all his wealth. She immediatelv cried. 
Yes, she had heard he was a very gc>od sort of a 
young gentleman, and that she was advised to pre- 
sent a petition to him on the behalf of herself and 
family, if she could get any one to draw it up, that 
her poor husband might be released from gaol. I told 
her she need not do that, as he was released already. 
She. said, " Surely you joke." I answered, " It is 
bo joke ; but ii you will promise me to be mild and 
calm, as all earthly blessings are uncertain, I could 
tell you the particulars of that joyful event." And 
when I came to relate that part of the story, how 
Mr. Lovely himself had even gone to bring her hus- 
band that day out of gaol, and that he was now at 
Grediton, at the sign of the Three Misers, -the prin- 
cipal inn in that town, and he would be with her in 
about an hour, the transport of her joy was exces- 
sive. 



216 

Jiiss TVoi\ How could the poor woman support 
herself under such happy and unexpected news ? 

Loveg. Oh madam, she was all ecstacy : at one 
time she was upon her knees ; then her hands were 
lifted up with surprise ; then she ran hither and thi- 
ther about the house like one distracted. Immedi- 
ately she begged, above all things, that she might 
go directly to see her husband, and bring him 
home ; and I found her raptures were so great, that 
it was impossible to keep her back, and two of the 
children were as eagerjy determined to attend her. 

Merry m. What a meeting that must have been ! 

Loveg, A meeting, indeed ! much more affecting 
than the former. The woman ran into the inn like 
one distracted. As to conversation, it was all inter- 
rupted by the vehemence of excessive joy between 
them both, and the two eldest children. For it seerns 
the family, though in a poor way, lived very happy 
together till old Greedy sent the poor man to gaol, 
because he did not choose to resign the property of 
his wife and children into his rapacious hands. 

TFor. Had they nothing to say to their kind de- 
liverer ? 

Loveg. Sir, the dear young man could not stand 
it any longer ; he was so affected at these delightful 
consequences of his benevolence, that he ran out of 
the room almost directly ; especially when they be- 
gan personally to thank him for his immediate and 
great attention to their misery ; he therefore called 
me out, and took a twenty-pound bank note from his 
old uncle's hoard, telling me to give it them for their 
immediate necessities ; and as the scene was too 
much for him, he begged they would go home for 
the present, and that he should send to inquire after 
them on some future day. 

JFor. I'll engage for it, such a scene as that had 



217 

not been exhibited in that inn before, for many a long 
day. 

~Loyeg. Oh, sir, Mr. Hoarder himself, the land- 
lord of the Three Misers, though one of the real na- 
tives of the town, for once felt so much of the tender 
emotions of humanity, that he could not help drop- 
ping a tear with others ; and what was more asto- 
nishing still, could even call the family into the 
kitchen, and give them a good dinner without any 
charge, though Mr. Lovely had before ordered them 
a dinner' on his own account. 

Wor. That wretch has a hard heart whose eye ne- 
ver started the tear of compassion over human woe ! 

Loveg. True, sir; but there are many such wretches 
in the world, especially at Grediton. 

Miss TVor. Oh, me ! what a delightful sight this 
must have been, and yet how affecting ! 

TVor. [To his daughter, ,] My dear Eliza, may you 
and your dear intended, who is now with us, live to 
see many such delightful sights exhibited towards 
numbers of our fellow creatures ! I shall be very 
glad to help you out on all such occasions as far as 
my fortune will allow ; and it is not wise to go be- 
yond it, even in doing good. 

Loveg. Ah, dear young Mr. Lovely, I wish he 
was here to take your wise hint, and not go fester 
than he can hold on ; for directly as he had opened 
the will, and found what he was worth, he cried \ 
" And why should I have all, and my dear sisters have 
nothing, who are as near akin as myself — I'll send 
each of them a thousand pounds. My uncle's will 
was not a just one." I immediately added, "Probably 
not, dear sir ; but then it will be publickly known 
that he has left you in possession of all his large 
hoard ; and while you live, the public will expect 
from you what is suitable to such a fortune; let me 
give you my advice — do not spend the capital, but 



218 

be liberal with the product ; and at all times be fru- 
gal at home, that you may be liberal abroad. Thus, 
dear sir, you will had it in your. power to be liberal 
all the days of your life." I urged also, that all of 
his sisters were in decent circumstances, and that 
two of them, who were married* were even affluent ; 
that if, by an}' reverse of fortune, his liberal designs 
should be found necessary, it would then become him 
to assist with a generosity equal to his fortune. 

Wor. Well, sir, this was good advice, did he act 
upon it ? 

Loveg. He said he was determined to present them 
with a thousand pounds, to be divided between 
them as a compliment for mourning, and that he 
would take other matters into further consideration ; 
though since then I have found he sent each ox them 
a thousand pounds : but, oh, the heaps of applications 
he had from almost every quaiter, alter these lew in- 
stances of his liberal spirit had got wind. 

Wor. Alas, alas, as soon as a man of generosity is 
found, what wretched ha; pie- lie is sure to have, alter 
him! Direetiy when he has relieved the really ne- 
cessitous, mul of the hypocritical and worth- 
less will be 't fiiid m out, that they m; y pur- 
take of tl ty he preserves for others ; and it is 
a thousand times better to submit to imposition than 
relax in our generosity. But what did he do with 
these applicants ? 

Loveg. Sir, I advised him to refer them all to his 
agent; and notwithstanding most of them were very 
futile, having nothing to complain of but hard bar- 
gains, yet he parted with pot less than eight hundred 
pounds to satisfy their demands. 

JVor. I fear this delightful young man will be 
sadly taken in, unless he is upon his guard. 

Loveg. Why soon after he had given away fifty 
pounds to one family, he found he was completely 



219 

swindled out of it; and I was scarcely sorry for it, as 
it may teach him a good lesson ; he thinks all the 
world are as upright as himself. 

Wor. I believe, with you, this might prove a good 
lesson to this sweet-minded youth : how happy 
should I be if he lived nearer to these parts, that I 
might give him the best advice in my power ! 

Loveg. Sir, his wishes thoroughly correspond with 
yours. 

Mrs. War. I am sure they thoroughly correspond 
with mine. 

Loveg. Why, madam, he says the air of Grediton 
will never agree with his constitution ; he exceed- 
ingly longs to find a habitation somewhere near these 
parts, especially while his father lives ; though his 
mother seems somewhat more reconciled to him, 
since his old uncle has left him such a large portion 
of money and estates. 

Merrym. But, sir, could Mr. Lovely prevail on 
Mr. Suveail to lend you the pulpit for the Sunday ? 

Loveg. Oh no, sir ; there was plenty of objec- 
tions started against that attempt. First, he said, he 
did not see the use of paying another for doing his 
duty for him, as he could do it himself. And when 
that difficulty was obviated, that no money would 
be needed; the next was, that " it was very wrong 
to encourage a modern set of ministers to do duty for 
nothing, when " the labourer is worthy of his hire." 

Merrym. Yes ; and that is the way these hirelings 
pervert the word of God. He forgot to quote how 
happy Paul and the rest of the Apostles were, when 
they had it in their power to preach Christ, without 
being burdensome to the people. 

Wor. Ah, that doctrine stands in a part of the 
Bible they don't want to read. But what other ob- 
jections could he have ? 

Loveg. Why, that I could be so weak as to go 



2.20 

gadding about with that young man who was so 
foolish as to spatter about his money, which Mr. 
Alderman Greedy had collected together with so 
much frugality ; and that this was bringing a sad 
disgrace on the memory of the worthy Alderman, 
who was the father of the corporation ; though he 
rather thought, in some instances of frugality, he 
might have overshot the mark. And further, thai at 
& private meeting of the corporation over a di- 
spirits, sheep's trotters, and other such rarities, 
(though while they could feast themselves at the 
public expence they were liberal enough:) Mr. Fru- 
gal, the present mayor, agreed thai Mr. Lovely's 
conduct was an unpardonable offence. Alderman 
Stingey was also of the same opinion, and Mr. Close- 
fist, the town-cierk, entirely agreed wiih them ; 
though Mr. Closefist, at times, it\seems, affects even 
to be generous, and boasts of his numerous applica- 
tions ; and now and then gives away a trifle ; as he 
finds it for his interest to be liberal, that thereby he 
may net only avail himself of the custom of the 
people of the town, but take in those also that are 
not among its original natives. He is of the iarniiy 
oi the Longheads, and is himself supposed to be one 
of the most long-headed of any of that famous fa- 
miiy : he is a poor, thin-looking fellow, anu seems 
to be made up of nothing but low cunning and mean 
designs. 

Wor. What a strange set of them they all are ? 
However, between them all, it seems you were to be 
kept out of the puipit. I wonder you were not al- 
most determined to act like our good olci reformation 
bishops, and preach out in the street, upon this text, 
" Ye cannot serve God and mammon. 55 

Loveg. I don 5 t know what my dear honest friend 
Mr. Si pdash might have done, had he been in my 
situation. 



221 

Merry m. I am sure you shewed very little of your 
constitutional timidity when you preached your vi- 
sitation sermon ; but it is a terrible calamity, that 
people should be left in such a state, and with such 
a teacher, to keep them all quiet and contented in 
their sins. 

Loveg. Why, Mr. Lovely atone time thought of 
hinting it to Mr. Saveall, that if he would let Mr. 
Goodman be the curate, he would secretly pay the 
salary for him ; but his pride and enmity will never 
let him submit to that. At another time he thought 
of building them a chapel, and sending some good 
man to preach among them ; but it is a sad soil for 
the gospel ; the cares of the world would be very 
apt to choke the seed in that tow T n. 

Merrym. Did you preach no where on the Sun- 
day ? 

Loveg. Oh yes, sir, I went to Fairfield with Mr. 
Lovely to see his father, who seems to be one of a 
very excellent mind and temper, and he obtained 
leave of the pulpit from Dr. Nescience at a word ; 
for it seems they at once put me into his good graces 
by saying I was a man of learning, and this pleased 
him hugely. Poor thing ! he happens to be one of 
the most stupid, conceited pedants I ever met with 
in my life. 

Wor. -Had you an interview with him ? 

Loveg. Sir, Mr. Lovely's father invited him to 
sup with us ; and at once he began saying how de- 
lighted he was to be acquainted with men of learn - 
ing, and how glad he should be if I had but time to 
see some of his animadversasions, as he called them, 
on the book of Tobit, and on Beii and the Dragon, 
which he meant to publish ; but that now the world 
was grown so ignorant that he could find no printer 
who would venture to undertake the work. 

Wor. Why to be sure the little Doctor is half mad. 

Vol. II. U 



222 

Loveg. Quite so, I should rather apprehend, if 
what some have observed be true, " A little learning 
makes a man mad, while a deal of it will bring him 
back again into his senses." But with what^asto- 
nishing rapidity he ran on, with his curious ex- 
pressions, and hard words ! many of which he mur- 
dered as bad^as the former. However, in the course 
of his conversation, I found he had been a great stu- 
dent in all the whimsical nonsense that had found its 
way into the world through the crazy brains of Ja- 
cob Behmen, Count Swedenburgh, and others, by 
which means he had almost been deprived of the 
small share of sense that nature had bestowed upon 
him. And one night, they say, while he was sitting 
up, reading these visionary authors, he was over- 
taken with the cramp, upon which he immediately 
ran up stairs to Mrs. Nescience, crying that he was 
sure he was bewitched. 

Wor. How in the world could you answer this 
whimsical Doctor ? 

* Loveg. Sir, it was impossible to answer him ; down- 
right nonsense never can be answered ; so that I did 
nothing but hum and hah, and say yes, and no, 
while Mr. Lovely did all in his power to put another 
turn upon the conversation. 

Merrym. But, sir, how did it fare with you on the 
Sunday ? 

Loveg. Why, during the summer months it seems 
they have two sermons, and I thought I should have 
been permitted to preach them both ; but after he 
had heard my morning sermon, urging the necessity 
of a divine change, and recommending, according to 
the best of my ability, the need of a personal appli- 
cation to our Lord Jesus Christ, that this blessed work 
might be accomplished through the operation of 
his Holy Spirit ; the little Doctor skipt about in his 
gown and cassock like '& jampi?ig joan, saying, that 



223 

with my leave, he should preach in the afternoon, 
and that he was sure he could confute all I had said 
in the morning ; for that Jie could not bear to hear the 
true religion he preached contradicted before all 
the people. 

JVor. You were under the necessity, consequently, 
of giving up the point. 

Loveg. Yes, sir ; I told him I should be open to 
conviction, and said how willing I should be to- read 
prayers for him, as, in reading them, I was satisfied 
I should neither wound my conscience, nor contra- 
dict my sermon. , * 

Merr. And what sort of a sermon did he give you? 
< Loveg. Oh, sir, Mr. Lovely's father remembers 
that the little doctor had given it them three or four 
times before. 

If or. What was the substance of it ? 

Loveg. Why, first he began stammering and stut- 
tering over a few lines, which he went home pur- 
posely to compose, by way of prefixing a few new 
thoughts as a preface to his old sermon ; and though 
these were written down, yet he was so terribly out 
of temper from what he had heard in the morning, 
that he appeared much more like a man bewitched 
than when he was seized with the cramp. 

Wor. Do let us hear the drift of the Doctor's ser- 
mon. I'll warrant it was a curious performance. 

Loveg. Indeed, sir, it was. He first pretended 
to prove that we were all made Christian's by bap- 
tism. Then that we were confirmed in our Chris- 
tianity, when we were confirmed by the bishop. 
And lastly, we were perfected in our Christianity 
by receiving the holy sacrament : and this, he said, 
was better than the strange notions that some people 
were fond of preaching up about regeneration and 
inspiration, which, he said, must be all false doc- 
trine; because that, if we were inspired, we could 



224 



work miracles; making no difference between the 
extraordinary operations of the divine Spirit, and the 
implantation of the divine nature, which must exist 
in every real Christian to the latest ages of the 



world. 



Merrym. One wonders that people can be so ig- 
norant as to suppose that a mere outward ordinance, 
however good in its place, will do as a substitute 
for that new and divine nature mentioned so fre- 
quently in the word of God. 

Loveg. Why, sir, I was told by Mr. Lovely, that 
when the Doctor had to preach the visitation sermon 
before the bishop, he outdid all the nonsense that 
ever was exhibited before in a pulpit, 

Merrym. What was the specimen of divinity he 
exhibited on that occasion ? 

Loveg. It may be necessary that you should first 
hear the text before I tell you the application of it : 
" Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual bless- 
ings in heavenly places in Christ." Eph. i. 3. 

Merrym. In the name of wonder, and of common 
sense, what could he, what could any man make out 
from that text, but to exemplify the high state of 
spirituality to which believers are called by the 
grace and spirit of the gospel ? 

Loveg. In these instances, I believe wonders will 
never cease ; ; for he fast profoundly remarked, that the 
clergy were the people who were " sitting in hea- 
venly places in Christ ; 5 ? and then observed, that their 
office itself so operated upon them, that if they were 
bad men before they were in holy orders, yet when once 
they were promoted to one of these heavenly places hi 
Christ Jesus, they mm! be made good in course. 

Merrym. What by a sort of spiritual legerdemain, 
I suppose ; however, that was not the case with me. 
But how did he prove this egregious nonsense ? 



JLoveg. You Know there is no proving nonsense ; 
but first he observed that the clergy, when they chris- 
tenened the children, could not but be reminded of 
their own baptismal vows thereby, and that pre- 
vented their breaking them : that visiting the sick, 
and burying the dead, would also remind them of 
their mortality ; and that would render it impossible 
for them to lead wicked lives ; and as to administer- 
ing the holy sacrament, that could not but operate 
as a charm to make them holy too ; and that reading 
the prayers and lessons, as appointed in the service 
of the church, must remind them of their duty, and 
direct them in the practice of it ; and thus they were 
all, from their mere office, made good. 

Merrym. Is it possible that he could believe his 
own nonsense, when so directly contrary to matters 
of fact? 

JLoveg. Whether he, or others believed it I cannot 
tell ; so, however, it seems he preached : and though 
the Doctor has the misfortune to be a remarkably 
high churchman, insomuch, that when he came to 
consider the religion of the country from whence 
he purchased his diploma, he could scarce sleep for 
three nights together, on account of the evils he ap- 
prehended from his Presbyterian degree; yet, when 
he preached his famous visitation sermon, he was li- 
beral in the extreme ; for though he said it was cer- 
tain that the religion of the established clergy was 
the best that could be, and must therefore make 
them the best men ; yet lie supposed the religion of 
the Dissenting clergy made them good also, though 
it could not be admitted that it made them so good 
as themselves. * 

JVor. What contemptible, popish trash ! but I 

* This is an epitome of a sermon which the author positively heard 
at a visitation, 

U 2 ' 



wish you would tell us something better worth our 
hearing than this strange nonsense. How did you 
finish the day ? 

Loveg. Sir, young Mr. Lovely begged I might do 
with them as I do at your house, expound a chapter, 
and give them a prayer ; and I trust it was not with- 
out the divine blessing. The only person who ap- 
peared dissatisfied, as it was new work to them all, 
was the old lady. She is terribly afraid I shall make 
her son " righteous over much;" and has strange 
apprehensions, if that be the case, he will squander 
away all his money, by giving it among the poor. 

Wor. She has quite the family failing then. 

Loveg. I fear she and Mr. Lovely's father though 
married, w T ere never matched ; she is perpetually tor- 
menting the servants about wearing out mops too 
fast, drinking too much small beer, and wasting the 
brown sugar ; spending so much for provisions on 
the dogs and cats, suffering themselves to be cheated 
by purchasing such small half-penny-worths of sand ; 
so that her maid-servants are seldom with her longer 
than when they have seen about two or three full 
moons, and then they are off; but as to Mr. Love- 
ly's father, all these poor cast-offs gave him the 
best of characters wherever they went. 

Mrs. JVor. No wonder that Mrs. Lovely should 
keep back from going with her husband to see such 
a mother-in-law, though they loved each other so 
much. 

JVor. I suppose he returned on the Monday ? 

Loveg. Yes, sir ; and on the Wednesday, when I 
had engaged to return, Mr. Lovely requested me to 
accept fifty pounds for my travelling expences. I 
immediately told him that I should feel like a down- 
right Gehazi, Elisha's mercenary servant, if I ac- 
cepted more than was necessary to bring me back 
to my own door ; he, however, would not let me go 



227 

away with less than twenty pounds, and before my 
arrival the other thirty were sent, in a most affection- 
ate letter, as a present to Mrs. Lovegood, with a hope 
soon to meet again. 

After this, Mr. Lovegood further related a con- 
versation he had on his return in the stage to Brook- 
field, with old Dame Gossiper, who was very re- 
ligious in her way, and who hoped to be saved by 
the help of " her church, her parson, and her good 
God:" but as the writer has scarcely anytime to 
compose these Dialogues, except in the evenings of 
the day when all is silent, he wishes to drop a con- 
versation somewhat less interesting, while nature de- 
mands its accustomed rest. 



228 



DIALOGUE XXIX. 



BETWEEN MR. WORTHY AND FAMILY, MR. CON- 
SIDERATE, AND THOMAS NEWMAN. 



THE HAPPY MARRIAGE. 

ACCORDING to the hint given in the former 
Dialogue, the reader must now be informed, 
that two days after Mr. Lovegood's return from the 
Lovelys, the intended union between Mr. Merry- 
man and Miss Worthy took place. As the reporter 
of these events was not at the wedding, much infor- 
mation from him cannot be expected on that sub- 
ject. From the feelings of female delicacy, it was 
the wish of Miss Worthy that the marriage should 
be solemnized with all possible secrecy ; and in or- 
der to accomplish this, the family went to the church 
with Mr. Worthy and Mr. Lovegood, apparently 
with a design to see about some alterations which 
were making in Mr. Worthy's pew, and some other 
accommodations, that the poor might be better 
seated, who so plentifully crowd the aisles. And 
while the carpenters were gone to their breakfast, 
old Andrew Snuffle, the clerk, was ordered to attend 
at a moment's warning, and then the marriage cere- 
mony was performed. They next retired to Brook - 
field Hall, when a very appropriate prayer for a 
blessing on the union was offered up by Mr. Love- 
good. 

Though this event was thus performed in secret, 



229 

yet it was not the wish of the family that it should be 
kept a secret. Old Andrew went directly to the 
ringers, who began gingling the bells as well as they 
could; though one of them being cracked, and 
another of them having lately lost its clapper, the 
music of the steeple was but a coarse exhibition of 
the people's joy. Seldom had Mr. Lovegood an ill 
word from any of his parishioners ; but on this event 
the ringers were almost angry with him for having 
opposed the repair of the ring of bells; but he well 
knew, that this sort of music was frequently a temp- 
tation to a disorderly conduct. Mr. Worthy, also, 
was of the same opinion, being entirely satisfied that 
a better set of bells could never be wanted to call 
the people to public worship, while the best bell in the 
church, (referring to the pulpit,) was so thoroughly 
sound, and had in it such an excellent clapper, to 
charm the ears and hearts of all who had grace to at- 
tend on its melodious sound. 

Mr. Worthy, therefore, having sent to the ring- 
er;- the accustomed compliment, requesting them, 
and the rest of the inhabitants of the village, to ab- 
stain from all riotous mirth on that happy event, 
especially as the^ bride and bridegroom were going 
off for Sandover directly ; and that if they would 
wait their return in about a fortnight, when they 
were to come and pass a few days at Brookfield 
Hall, he would then, ou the condition of their or- 
derly behaviour, invite them to partake of a marri- 
age feast at his own house. A word frpm Mr. Wor- 
thy was always a law throughout the village. Ma- 
ny cheerful blessings were pronounced on the union, 
all having one and the same wish, that the family of 
the Worthys might be built up in all its collateral 
branches ; and that from age to age they might be a 
blessing to the country, wherever " the bounds of 
their habitations might be fixed." 



230 

Though the precise time of this intended union 
was known to none at Sandover but Mr. Merryman's 
servants, yet immediately on their arrival, though 
in the evening of the day, the event soon transpired 
through all the neighbourhood : and Mr. Merryman 
had scarcely finished his family prayer, when they 
were saluted with the following hymn, accompanied 
with instrumental music, and sung hy some of his 
affectionate parishioners, in the court-yard of his 
rectory house. 

THE HYMN. 



In Paradise the joy began, 
When male and female both were one ; 
Their hears entwin'd in mutual love, 
Their mutual joy was love alone. 

But, ah ! lamented be the day, 
When man forsook the God of love ; 
Till Christ the second Adam came, 
And brought salvation from above. 

Invited to the marriage feast, 
The Holy Saviour grac'd the day ; 
There his firs', miracle he wrought, 
That hence he might his power display. 

Let this fond pair, enrich'd with grace, 
Like clusters rich from Canaan's vine, 
Be bless'd wirh all his love and pow'r, 
Who tum'dthe water into wine. 

Witness their marriage, dearest Lord, 
Emblem of thy uniting grace ; 
One with each other, one with thee, 
For ever bless them, " Prince of Peace." 

Upon the bridal pair look down, 
Who now have plighted hearts and hands ; 
Their union with thy favour crown, 
And bless, O bless, the nuptial bands. 

With gifts and grace their hearts endow, 
Of all rich dowries far the besr : 
Their substance bless, and peace bestow, 
^nd that shall sweeten all the rest. 



231 

True helpmates in the heavily road, 
O may they tread the paths of life ! 
Those peaceful paths so far remote, . 
From all the rugged ways of strife. 

As Isaac and Rebecca gave 
A pattern mild, and chaste, and kind, 
So may this new-met couple live 
As one, in constant union join'd. 

Many were inquisitive to know from whence 
these good people procured their poetry, while some 
were of opinion that it was the production of Mr. 
Lovegoocf, written on a former marriage occasion, 
and which had got into circulation by having been 
transcribed by different persons : yet others judged 
that it was somewhat below the general pitch of his 
poetry, and that it might more probably have been 
the production of a Mrs. Rhymer, who lived in those 
parts, and to w r hom Mr. Merryman's ministry had 
been made very useful. But that we may deal upon 
uncertainties and conjectures no longer, the reader 
shall have other particulars in a dialogue, which 
took place between Mr. Worthy and family, and 
our old favourite Thomas Newman, who had been 
to Sandover with his eldest daughter Betty, the day 
after the marriage, that she might attend as a ser- 
vant on Mrs. Merryman ; and where Thomas him- 
self had been detained, that he might help Mr. Mer- 
ryman with a little of his advice, as it respected the 
management of his glebe, and some other little 
husbandry concerns, which he now found necessary 
to undertake upon his settlement in a family way. 



[Thomas is introduced.'] 

T/io. Your servant, your honour; Ihave a letter 
to your honour, from Madam Merryman. 



232 

\_Mr. Worthy reads the letter, and hands it to Mrs. 
Worthy.'] 

Wor. Well, Thomas, I perceive my daughter and 
her husband are very well — sit down, I want to have 
some conversation with you about them. 

Tho. With your honour's leave, I had rather 
stand. I should be ashamed to sit down before your 
honour. 

Wor. Nay, nay, Thomas, you must sit down : I 
shall have many questions to ask, and you must be 
tired ; for you have had a long walk from Sandover. 

[After much persuasion, Thomas sits down at a 
modest distance from his honour ; for Thomas reads 
his Bible, and that directs him to " give honour to 
whom honour is due;" while the truly honourable 
Mr. Worthy is as wisely instructed to " condescend 
to men of low estate.' 5 ] 

Wor. Well, and what do the people of Sandover 
think of Mr. Merry man, for having taken my daugh- 
ter away from me ? 

Tho. Ah, dear, your honour ! why the people at 
Sandover are delighted to admiration at the match. 

Mrs. Wor. I am glad they are, Thomas ; I am 
thoroughly persuaded my daughter will do all in 
her power to make a good wife, and a good minis- 
ter's wife. 

Tho. Why, Madam, the very day after her mar- 
riage, she went with that dear gentleman, andjfor 
sure he is a precious soul! and visited ever so many 
poor folk about the parish, and gave something 
wherever she went. 

Mrs. Wor. She told us, that she should want no 
fine wedding clothes in 9'oins; to Sandover ; and that 
she had rather, when she came there, lay out that 
money among the poor, that she might put a little 
decent clothing on their backs who needed it most. 

Tho. Why, madam, I never saw a people so hap- 



233 

py 111 all my born days, as the people at Sandover 
were, when they saw such a humble good young 
lady walking about in such a plain way and dress ; 
while some foolish proud folk supposed that your 
honour would have sent her home in a coach and six, 
and that there should have been bondfires, and nobody 
knows what fine things besides. 

JVor. Indeed, Thomas, had we acted such a part, 
the old proverb had been true against us, " A fool 
and his money are soon parted." But I hope my 
daughter will prove a very useful helpmate to that 
good young minister. 

Tho. 'Las, your honour, you cannot tell how they 
talk of Mr. Merry man all the parish over, and what 
stories the people tell of his humble and good na- 
tured ways : though 'squire Wild, that lives in his 
parish, never comes to hear him ; but orders that his 
pew should be locked up, that none of the poor 
people who come from far should go into his pew : 
and so good Mr. Merry man has ordered a pair of 
steps to be made, that people may get over into the 
'squire's pew, because he did not chuse to break 
the lock : but he says nobody has a right to lock 
up their pews, if they won't come there themselves. 
And so the people can get over very well, and then 
the rest of the poor people sit upon the steps. 'Squire 
Wild was great enough with Mr. Merryman, while 
they were all living together in the same wicked way ; 
and now and then he would come to church, hut 
he would do nothingbut laugh and jeer with Madam 
Wild and his daughters all the time ; and now he 
says every thing that he can think of against Mr. 
Merryman, poor dear young gentleman ! 

Wor. That is not at all to be wondered at, Tho- 
mas, while " the carnal mind is enmity against 
God." But Mr. Merryman is quite in the right of 
it; no family should lock up a pew if they don't 
Vol. II. - X 



234 

fill it themselves ; tho' he does very wisely in oppos- 
ing bad measures with as much mildness as he can. 
But did not the people want to be feasted upon the 
occasion ? 

Tho. Oh no, your'honour ; Mr. Merryman said 
he should make no feast but for the poor : and so 
he sent five guineas to the bakers, to be given away 
among such poor, as he and the overseers might 
think fit. 

JVor. Only five guineas, Thomas ! 

Tho. Why, your honour, I thought that was a 
desperate big sum ; but then he ordered five guineas 
more to be sent to the butchers, that a bit of meat 
might be given to every poor man thai was to have 
the loaf of bread. His heart is wonderfully set on 
doing good. 

Wor. Why, Thomas, the only proof that we are 
good is, when we are enabled by the grace of God 
to do good : every tree is known alone by its fruits. 
But M \ Merryman tells us he kept you all Friday 
and Saturday talking about his little husbandry af- 
fairs, and that he would make you stop over the 
Sunday : how did poor Betty do without you all 
the time ? 

Tho. Why, to be sure, Betty and I never were so 
long away from each other since we have been mar- 
ried, and now it is fifteen years, come a fortnight 
after next Mapleton fair day. It seemed to us a 
longful time to be apart ; and we both of us found 
it desperate hard work to part with our poor daugh- 
ter ; but there she is gone to a charming place ; and 
young Madam Merryman takes to her wonderfully. 
The Lord bless the child, and give her grace ! 

Wor. Aye, Thomas, that sets ail right, and keeps 
all right : but how r is it that you cannot bear to part 
with your children, when you have so many of 
them? 



235 

Tho. The Lord be praised, we have none too ma- 
ny ! Betty and I have always noticed it, the more 
we have of them, the more the Lord blesses us. 
Whenever we seem to be a little sharp run, one good 
body or another, besides your honour, is always 
sending us something : we want nothing but thank- 
ful hearts. 

Wor. Why, as Mr. Lovely's great uncle has left 
him his fortune, he talks of taking your eldest son 
Thomas ofif your hands. 

Tho. To be sure, it is very kind of the young gen- 
tleman. Edward, of the Golden Lion, has told me 
a deal about him. But it will be a desperate hard 
gripe for me and Betty to part with him. How 
■movingly he talked about a sermon our minister 
preached a few Sundays ago upon the wise and fool- 
ish virgins !* Dear child, he was quite in tears while 
he was saying how much afraid he was, lest he should 
be among the foolish virgins ; and Betty and I were 
as much overcome at his talk as himself. 

Wor. Well, Thomas, this should give you encou- 
ragement to bring up your children " in the nurture 
and admonition of the Lord." 

Tho. Why PU assure your honour, that Betty, 
M r ho is gone to live with Madam Merryman, is a 
very pretty spirited child ; though little Sammy is a 
mighty stomachful boy ; but by the Lord's blessing, 
-he may get better as he gets older. 

Wor. But, Thomas, if Mr. Lovely should ever 
chuse to take your son, you must not object to it. 
I have no doubt but it will be the making of him, if 
he turns out well. 

Tho. Oh no; if the young 'squire should chaise to 

take him ; I shall be sure to follow your h tour's 

i 

* This must certainly have been the same sermon that so much offend- 
ed Mr. Lovely, see Dialogue XXL 



236 

advice, and let him go ; though they say he lives 
a desperate way oft', almost half as far as London. 

Mrs. JFor. But, Thomas, how did you like Mr. 
Merryman on the Sunday ?- 

Tho. Like him, madam ! Who could but chuse 
to like him : excepting Mr. Lovegood, I think he 
must be one of the finest men in all the world. 

Wor. I suppose there was a fine croud to see Mr. 
Merryman bring his bride to church for the first 
time. 

Tho. Why your honour knows it is always crowd- 
eel ; for rector Grumble, of the next parish, has been 
preaching such scolding sermons against modern 
'thusists, that he has driven all the people away. 
Some of them go off to a dissenting meeting, where 
they say a very good man preaches, and a great 
many more of them come to Mr. Merry man's church; 
and yet Rector Grumble keeps scolding at the empty 
pews as bad as ever. 

Mrs. Wor. I hope Mr. Merryman does not scold 
in return. 

Tho. He scold, dear gentleman ! It would be a 
hard matter to set him a scolding. He has a sweet 
loving heart of his own, since it has been changed 
by the grace of God ; but to be sure the church was 
wonderfully crowded. I am sure it was tnighty mov? 
ing : I never was so affected in all my bom days. 

Mrs. Wor. What was so moving, Thomas ? 

Tho. Why, madam, there was such a wonderful 
fine garland "placed over the gate of the church 
yard, and on one side of it, there was a writing in 
great large letters, " God bless the happy pair!" 
and on the other side, ■" Long live the family of the 
Worthy s !" and then, your honour, there was over 
the garland a painting like two hands taking hold 
of each other, and holding two hearts joined toge- 
1 ther ; and out of the two hearts there was 5 a flame 



-237 

of fire,, and in- that flame, there was 
these words, " God is love." And 
Merry man. and his lady came into tl : 
fingers struck up such a charming pne rrj urn, 1 
don't think Mr. Lovegood could have made a bet- 
ter. 

Wor, Whj^ perhaps Mr. Lovegood did make it, 
Thomas, for he waa in the secrerabout the marri- 
age : but we have seen a copy oi i . 

Tho. It was the same hymn, your honour, that they 
sung in the court yard the night Mr. Merry man and 
madam came home. And then the singers would 
have me with them, to help them to pitch the tune ; 
but instead of singing, 'las! your honour, the sight 
of it so much affected me, in seeing the people stand 
up, as though they were all praying for a blessing on 
them at the same time, it made me quite cry for joy : 
if it had been king George, and queen Charlotte, the 
people could not have given them more honour. 
The Lord grant that they mav be as happv as Betty 
and I ! 

Mrs. Wor. I should suppose all this love and af- 
fection from the good people was enough to overset 
my daughter. 

Tho. Why, madam, I heard when she came into 
her pew, she was so overcome, that she had almost 
swounded away. 

Wor. Well, Thomas, I have put my daughter 
into very good hands ; and what is best of all, I 
trust they are both in the hands of the Lord. 

Tho. Ah, but your honour knows that he was not 
in the hands of the Lord before he heard our dear 
minister at the visitation, and when he was running 
after all sorts of romancing nonsenses. And now 
there are some folk who can scarcely help making 
their sports at him, though he lives such a different 
life from what he did in his wicked unregenerate. 
days. 



238 

JVor. Why has any one been laughing at him of 
late ? 

Tho. Why they say old Mr. Quibble, the law- 
yer, met him the other day, >vhi!e he was carrying 
a poor old woman's basket on his horse, because she 
appeared so weak that she could not carry it herself, 
while she was walking along the road to market ; 
and there lawyer Quibble, tbey say, made such a 
jeering and joking at him for it, when he was at 
'squire Wild's. But such'sort of hard-hearted law- 
yers have no conceivance what the tender-hearted 
ministers of Christ feel, when they see their fellow 
creatures in such distress. 

Mrs. Wor. Well, well, Thomas, we sha'nt be 
ashamed of our son-in-law for such easy, good-na- 
tured tricks as these ; but did he not want to trans- 
port you and your family from Brookfield, to be his 
bailiff. 

Tho. Why, madam, I never can think, wicked 
sinner as I am in heart, that I deserve to be trans- 
ported. Mr. Merryman, I am sure, never thought 
to have me transported : and I have heard of bam- 
bailiffs that arrest people for debt, but I am sure I 
should not like such an office as that : I think, ma- 
dam, for want of learning, I have a misconceivance 
of what you mean. 

Wor. Why, Thomas, I am sorry you should mis- 
understand Mrs. Worthy.. What she means, by trans* 
portation, is your removal from Brookfield to Sand- 
over, to overlook my son-in-law's affairs, and you 
know people call Feigning, my steward, a bailiff. 

Tho. Well, I thought it was only a nickname the 
folk give him, because, as people say, he is so cun- 
ning in feathering his own nest out of what belongs 
to your honour : but I hope madam and your ho- 
nour will pardon me, that I did not properly under- 
stand you ; but I am not fit to talk to gentlefolk, be- 
cause they put their xvords oat in a different manner 



239 

to what we countrified people do. But, thank the 
Lord, I can understand Mr. Lovegood's sermons, 
though he is such a learned man, from the top to the 
bottom. 

Wor. Why it is, Thomas, because Mr. Lovegood 
follows the apostle's direction, to " use great plain- 
ness of speech." But what have people to say against 
Feigning, my bailiff? 

Tho. Why people will say, though he makes such 
a main bustle about religion to please your honour, 
that he is na better than he should be : the Lord 
knows his heart, but it is no concernment of mine. 

Airs. Wor. But, Thomas, why won't you go and 
live with my son-in-law ? I am sure he would be ve- 
ry kind to you. t 

Tho. Ah, madam, that I am sure he would ; but 
then there is my dear old master, and my mistress. 
Sometimes I hope the Lord will change her heart, 
for she is wonderfully different to w 7 hat she w r as. 
And then there is Master Henry, and Miss Nancy, 
and it is to admiration how kind they all behave -to- 
me and Betty : and then there is our dear minister. 
Why madam, I never can think of leaving Brook- 
field parish, while he preaches in the church. 

Wor. Oh no, Thomas, we must not part with 
you. I believe we shall have some church preferment 
for you by and by. It is much more likely that 
j you should be clerk of the parish, than that Mr. 
Lovegood should bearchbishop of Canterbury*. I be- 
lieve we must soon put off poor old Andrew Snuffle 
with a pension. He makes sad blunders, and you 
know he frequently puts our minister out shocking- 
ly : at times he cries Amen in the middle of a prayer ; 
and when my daughter was married, he mistook the 
business, and began answering to the office of the 
churching of women. 

* See Dialogue VI. p. 99. 



240 

Tho. Ah, poor Andrew ! his hearing is very bad; 
and his eyes are got very dim : but how shall such a 
poor creature as I am stand up in such a place ? I 
wish I could read as well as Betty. > 
[Servant enters.'] 

Sero. Sir, Mr. and Miss Considerate are come to 
■vwait upon you. 

[ They enter, and Thomas retires, after returning 
many thanks far having received half a crown^ and an 
order to he well fed in the kite hen. ~\ 

Consid. Sir, I am come with my daughter to wait 
upon you with our hearty congratulations on the 
happy marriage, which has taken place in your 
family. 

Mr. and Mrs. Worthy. We heartily thank you, sir; 
pray be seated. Is Mrs. Considerate well ? 

Consid. Very well, I thank you, sir : but it un- 
fortunately happens to be washing week ; and this 
is a season of great importance in little families : 
she supposes, therefore, as my daughter came with 
me, that her superintendance would be needed at 
home ; otherwise she would have walked with us. 
She means, however, very soon to pay her respects 
to you on this happy event. 

Wor. Mrs. Considerate has at all times been a 
notable Martha. 

Consid. Yes, sir, and since she has become a truly 
spiritual Mary, she has continued not less a notable^ 
Martha. She is always frugal and industrious, 
though never mean ; while she is prudent and sav- 
ing, she is just and generous and kind. 

Wor. Sir, it is your mercy to have such a wife. 

donsid. Sir, a wife is either the best or the worst 
piece of furniture a man can possibly possess. 

Wor. Her character, we have frequently heard, 
is that of a most liberal' economist : by all accounts, 
I don't know what her poor neighbours would do 



241 

without her. It is said she can make -the richest 
caudle, and cook the best broth, and patch up the 
greatest quantity of old clothes, at the cheapest rate, 
of any person in the parish, for the good of her poor 
neighbours. 

Consid. Indeed, Sir, she can ; though by her ilota- 
bleness she coaxes many a shilling out of my pocket; 
but while she is such a conscientious, yet generous 
economist, I lose nothing by all she gives ; and what 
ever she does, is done with so much cheerfulness! 
I never saw her melancholy but once^ and that was 
enough to make us both melancholy, when we lost 
our two dear sons by the same event, when they were 
both drowned in the river. 

Mrs. IVor. Ah, dear sir, though we were not ac- 
quainted with each other in those days, yet we sin- 
cerely sympathized with you. 

Consid Oh, Madam, it was enough to break our 
hearts ; two more promising children never lived ; 
and surely never were two brothers known to be 
more affectionately fond of each other. Indeed this 
was the cause of the catastrophe ; for my eldest 
son, seeing his younger brother had got out of his 
depth, and was crying for help, unfortunately plung- 
ed in after him with all his clothes on; and was 
carried down the stream with him, when they both 
sunk together in a deep hole, under some willows 
that overhung the bank. To see two such lovely, 
alert children, that had left my house but an hour 
before, full of all that vivacity and life which belongs 
to youth, brought home breathless, and stretched on 
the same board — Oh, sir ! — [Mr. Considerate xveeps. ] 

Wor. But it seems, sir, it was that calamity which 
first brought Mrs. Considerate to seek after the con- 
solation of the Gospel, 

Consid. Yes, sir, I trust this heavy judgment has 
been overruled in muchmercv to us both; for while 



242 

we still continued very much dejected by our loss, 
our kind neighbours did ail they could in their way 
to revive our spirits, by inviting us to their tea-ta- 
bles, and their card parties; but, alas ! in vain. We 
did not then know, under the loss of both our beloved 
Isaacs, as we had no other child left but our daughter, 
that we wanted an Abraham's faith to support us. 

War. Ah, sir, we get but poor consolatita from 
any other quarter ; it requires more than is to be 
found in nature, under such circumstances, meekly 
to say, " Thy will be done. 55 

CcnsicL Why, sir, for a time I foolishly thought I 
could console my mind from natural reasons and 
moral philosophy; and it was just then Mr. Love- 
good sent ue that excellent little treatise upon af- 
fliction*, entitled " Correction, Instruction: or the 
Rod and the Word :" together with a conso- 
latory letter, written with such modesty, tenderness, 
and humility, as very much captivated my wife 
and daughter, while I had too good an opinion of 
my own understanding, to suppose I needed any in- 
struction from him ; yet I could not but at the same 
time love and admire his design. 

Wor. But I think, sir, it was this event that first 
brought Mrs. Considerate and your daughter to 
Brookfield church. 

Comid. Yes, sir, and I found they were soon in- 
structed in the lesson of meek and humble sub- 
mission to the will of God, which I had still to learn ; 
and it was along time before shame would let me go 
with them, though I never opposed. Well, sir; 
though it has been the will of God to deprive me of 
my future expectations by taking from me two such 
dear children, yet may your daughter, and newly - 

* Written by Mr. Thomas Case, one of the ejected ministers, and re* 
commended by Dr. Manto», of which a new edition is just published. 



243 

adopted son, long live to be a blessing to their neigh- 
bourhood! I really trust this will prove a happy 
event to many, though it is probable Mrs. Merry man, ■ 
from her situation in life, might in some respects 
Ijave formed a more advantageous connexion for 
herself. 

Wor. Why, we esteem it a very happy connexion 
when the best side of the question is taken into con- 
sideration ; for, between friends, my daughter had 
a very handsome offer from young Mr. Gay ; and I 
was highly pleased with her conduct on this occasion. 
The moral character of Gay is quite unexceptionable, 
his fortune is ample, and in many respects he is a 
very desirable young man : but then his connexions 
are quite in the world, and he himself is not averse to 
what are called the innocent amusements of life. 
, Miss Consid. Yes, sir, she was pleased to give me 
a hint that she had received so en a proposal ; but 
said, however in other respects she might like him, 
yet, as it regarded religious matters, she thought 
they never could be happy with each other. 

Wor. Why we perceived that for some days there 
was a strong struggle upon her mind, till she broke 
it to us, with a full determination not to attend to 
it : and for a considerable time we have discovered a 
much stronger bias towards Mr. Merry man. 

Consid. Sir, I think no body can wonder at that : 
since he has been blessed with the grace of God, he 
is become a very amiable youth. All that know 
him, one would think, would cry concerning him,* 
" What hath God wrought !" 

Wor. This made us determine to leave the young 
people to the leadings of their own minds. What 
she loses in point of affluence, I am satisfied, by the 
blessing of God, she will gain in point of happiness. 

Consid. Sir, if God preserve their lives, I have 
no doubt but that the union will be attended with 



244 

his blessing. We have nothing. to do but to follow 
the wise rules which we find in our Bibles, and that 
will assuredly prove the ready way to happiness. 
When people are unequally yoked in any connex- 
ions in life, especially in the marriage- state, they 
may depend upon it, they will make themselves mi- 
serable through life. I cannot but think that Miss 
Worthy has acted a part, as you observe, highly com- 
mendable to her character. If she should be the less 
affluent, I am sure she will be a thousand times more 
happy with Mr. Merryman, than ever she could have 
been with Mr. Gay. 

JVor. She will doubtless be called to move in a 
more humble sphere ; yet therein she will be much 
more likely to be protected and preserved. Thomas 
Newman, who just left the room as you came in, 
has been giving us a very pleasing narration how 
they were both received at Sandover on the daj r of 
their marriage. 

ConsicL Ah, sir, I have heard all about it. The 
people of Sandover think themselves very happy on 
the occasion, though Mr. Spiteful, of Mapleton, goes 
about from house to house, railing at the match like, 
a madman. 

Wor. What is that to him ? 

Consid. True, sir, but I think he would burst, if he 
had not now and then an opportunity to vent his 
spleen ; he has got hold of the old stale cry, which 
is indeed promiscuously levelled against all religious 
people, that Mr. Merryman is a Jacobin,- and is con- 
triving all he can to overturn the church and state ; 
and that all the canting tribe, round about the coun- 
try, are secretly combined together in the same plot, 
by Sunday schools, and other religious exertions ; 
while our present rulers have no greater enemies 
against their measures than himself and his comrades. 

IVor. I don't believe their is a man living more 



245 

attached to the government of his country than Mr. 
Merry man. But let Mr. Spiteful rail on, for nobody 
believes him ; I question if he believes himself: such 
persons can do no harm, but as they do harm to 
themselves. 

Consid. But, sir, did you hear what a fine speech 
poor Thomas Newman made use of to him, when 
he took it into his head to banter the poor man while 
he had some of his master's cattle to attend to at the 
last Mapleton fair ? 

JVor: What was that, sir ? 

Consid. Why, sir, Farmer Snakish and Mr. Spite- 
ful, who are cousins german, came both of them to- 
gether to the open green, where you know the fair 
for cattle is kept, and seeing poor Thomas, who 
was there attending upon the sale of his master's 
property, they came up to him, and began talking 
about the price of cattle ; but more with a design to 
banter him, than to deal with him. They next be- 
gan sneering at Thomas about his young master, 
how he came to run away from home so soon after 
his miraculous conversion, and whether it was not 
after some of his old wicked tricks. 

Wor. What could they mean by that ? 

Consid. O, sir, that was their way of interpreting 
Mr. Henry Littleworth's design in his journey to 
Locksbury, on Mrs. Chipman's affairs. After this 
they began with their insulting speeches against Mr. 
Lovegood, laughing at Mrs. Chipman's miraculous 
conversion, and insinuating as though it was only a 
trick between her and Mr. Lovegood. Then they 
began making their bitter remarks orr Mr. Merry man, 
saying that the top and bottom of his conversion ap- 
peared now to be nothing but craft, that he might 
contrive to get your daughter for his wife. Thomas 
replied, that he was well persuaded such a conversion 
could never hare been accomplished but bv the great 

Vol. II. Y 



246 

God himself ; adding that it would be a greater mira- 
cle still, if God would convert either of them. Upon 
this old Spiteful cried, " The great God ! What do 
you know of the great God ? I suppose Parson Love- 
good has made you so wise, that you can tell us how 
great God is, and how little God is, and all about it." 

War. To say the least of it, this sort of banter was 
horridly profane. 

Consid. But Thomas's answer was as remarkably 
to the purpose. He paused, and said, " Yes, sir, I 
can tell you, both how great God is, and how little 
God is." Spiteful cried — " Ah, I thought Lovegood 
had made a clever fellow of you : but let us hear 
it." Thomas answered " Though he is so great, 
thaUeven the heaven of heavens cannot contain him, 
being the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eter- 
nity, and who dwelleth in the light, which no man 
can approach unto, and which no man hath seen 
nor can see : yet he is so little, that he can dwell in 
the hearts of the humble and the contrite ; and take 
up his gracious abode, even in such a poor unworthy 
sinner as myself." 



While Mr. Considerate and Mr. Worthy were 
thus in conversation, Lord Rakish 's carriage drove 
up to the door. Mr. Worthy rang the bell immedi- 
ately, and ordered his boots, that he might appear as 
if he were going out, that his Lordship might think 
it necessary to shorten his visit. Mr. Considerate 
was very glad to make his escape from the interview, 
while the poor flimsy conversation of his Lordship 
would be as uninteresting to the reader to peruse, as 
it would be unpleasant for the writer to relate. Nor 
has he time to give a minute account oi what took 
place at the premised marriage-feast at Brookfieid 
Hall. Let it suffice, that it was conducted with all 



247 

that liberality, yet decency and sobriety, which are 
the standing order of the house. Some very appro- 
priate hymns were sung ; an exhortation was given 
by Mr. Lovegood, principally upon the duties of the 
marriage state : while he still kept up his constant 
rule, never to expatiate upon moral duties, but upon 
gospel principles. Thus the writer concludes the 
present Dialogue with an additional request to his 
younger readers, that, whenever they may be called 
in providence into the marriage state, they would not 
forget at least to take this leaf out of his book ; that 
their marriage may be conducted with the like so- 
lemnity, and equally in the fear of God. 



248 



DIALOGUE XXXI. 



BETWEEN MR. LOVEGOOD, AND THE FAMILY 
OF THE WORT HYS. 



GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF THE MINISTERIAL CHARACTERS 
OF MR. DELIBERATE, AND MR. LEGAL-DEFINITION: TO- 
GETHER WITH A FURTHER NARRATION OF THE AFFAIRS 
OF MRS. CHIPMAN, AND THE RESULT OF MR. LOVEGOOD's 
VISIT TO LOCKSBURY. 

THE reader will remember, that he has been twice 
interrupted in the narration of the affairs of the 
unhappy Mrs. Chipman. It has been thought most 
advisable to attend to the chronology of events, ra- 
ther than regularly to detail each subject by itself. 
Whatever is done by Providence, has in it abundant- 
ly more beauty of design, than that which is dressed 
by art. To refresh the reader's memory, he is re- 
quested to recollect the conclusion of Dialogue the 
Twenty-third: he will there find Mrs. Chipman was 
left perfectly deranged, in which state she continued 
for full six weeks. 

After her recovery, she was still bent upon the 
idea, that she could never more make her appear- 
ance at Locksbury, where her notorious conduct 
had rendered her the object of universal disgust. 
She wished rather to keep a school where she was ; 
but still the yearnings of a mother's bowels over 
the fatherless and forsaken child, would not suffer 
her to be happy, till she had it under her imme- 
diate care. Mr. Reader, however, was as unwil- 
ling to part with his grandchild, as his daughter 



249 

was to live without it; and other circumstances 
turning up in Providence, demanded that Mrs. Chip- 
man should forego her feelings, and return to her 
•native home. Mr. Chipman had a younger brother ; 
an attentive decent young man. The neighbour- 
hood advised, that the business should not be dropt ; 
and Mr. Reader agreed that the deceased brother's 
property should be continued in- the business, provi- 
ded his daughter, for the sake of the child, should 
be a partner in the concern. Matters being thus set- 
tled, she had no other alternative, than to leave 
Brookfield, and undertake the charge of the part- 
nership assigned to her care. 

Her father, therefore, wrote to her after her re- 
covery, begging her to submit to the plan ; persuad- 
ing himself that their happiness with each other, 
being now founded on the solid basis of their union 
with Christ, and consequently on the best, of princi- 
ples, would be far superior to what can be enjoyed 
from mere natural affection, independent of the 
loving influences which are experienced in the hearts 
of all those who " love the Lord Jesus in sincerity." 

Mr. Reader at the same time strongly urged, that 
Mr, Lovegood should attend her, in order that he 
might accept Mr. Fribble's offer of the pulpit, that 
his neighbours might have an opportunity of hear- 
ing the same glorious truths, whereby such wonders 
of grace had been felt, not only or the heart of his 
daughter and her husband, but he humbly trusted 
on his own heart also. Mr. Worthy was equally 
desirous that Mr. Lovegood -should attend the- call, 
though his congregation at all times parted with, 
him with much regret ; while Mr. Lovegood felt 
himself more at liberty to a seconclexcursion, though 
so speedily after the former, under the consideration 
that a serious clergyman, Mr. Deliberate, was then 
upon a visit in that neighbourhood. Perceiv- 

Y 2 



2o0 

ing, therefore, that he should not leave his beloved 
flock under the care of Mr. John Nokes, or Mr. 
Thomas Styles, provided he was but in holy orders ; 
he concluded it was again the call of Providence, 
that he should make this second excursion from his 
congregation and family. One Sunday's absence 
only he allowed himself for this journey. From 
this, his domestic disposition, many have lamented 
that one of the best of ministers has been prevented 
from shining among others, equal to the full lustre of 
that character, which he ever appeared to possess in 
the retired situation he filled with such dimity and 
devotedness of heart. Matters being thus settled, 
Mrs. Chipman, with many tears and the strongest 
expressions of gratitude and thankfulness to her kind 
benefactors, departed from Brookfield, in one of the 
stages which goes within a short distance of Locks- 
bury, attended by Mr. Lovegood — giving leave for 
Mr. Spiteiiil to say, that Lovegood had left the coun- 
try, and was gone nobody knows where, with the 
woman he had so marvellously converted ; insinuat- 
ing much, but saying little. Such were the speeches 
of this wretched creature, himself being such a mi- 
serable composition of wrath, craft, and spleen. 

Mr. Lovegood's journey, to and from Locksbury, 
occupied near a fortnight of his time. The reader 
shall be acquainted with the result of this visit in 
the conversation which took place between him and 
the family of the Worthys at Brookfield Hall on his 
return. 



Wor. Well, sir, we are glad to see you home 
again, though we had two very judicious sermons 
from Mr. Deliberate : He is a serious and solid di- 
vkie, yet I wish he was not so remarkably dry and 
formal. 



251 

Mrs. Wor. His sermons may be good ones, but I 
cannot admire, for myself, such a formal, cold, 
systematic method of preaching. 

Loveg. Mr. Deliberate is an excellent chamber 
divine, if I may so speak, and capable of writing 
good sound lectures in divinity ; but that which is 
delivered with greater simplicity, and which comes 
more to the point, so as to reach the conscience, 
certainly does most good. 

Wor. I confess that the heart should be affected, 
as well as the head instructed ; our affections should 
be enlivened, while our judgments. are enlightened; 
though Mr. Deliberate is certainly a man of a very 
deep understanding. 

Mrs. Wor. My dear, I don't pretend to be a judge 
of the depth of his understanding ; but it appeared 
to me that, though the people continued gaping at 
him through half his sermon ; yet, before he con- 
cluded, the congregation seemed to be more than 
half asleep. But he is still a better preacher, in my 
opinion, than Mr. Legal -definition. 

Loveg. As to Mr. Legal-definition, I could very 
readily put up with his long and tiresome defini- 
tions, of which he makes almost the whole of his 
sermons, if he w T ould but give us more of the Gos- 
pel. 

Wor. I think I have heard him preach three times, 
and one of his sermons was tolerably evangelical ; but 
the others had not a word of the gospel in them : all 
the time was taken up upon the duty of forgiving our 
enemies. 

Loveg. And what a fine opportunity he had of 
impressing that x excellent duty, from evangelical 
principles, when we are directed " to forgive one 
another, even as God, for Christ's sake, has forgiven 
us?" It is much to be admired, how closely St. 
Paul urges all social and relative duties, as resting 



252 

upon no other principles than those which are evan- 
gelical ; as though he knew no other argument to 
be conclusive among Christians, but what sprung 
from the atonement and salvation of our Lord. We 
are " bought with a price, therefore we must glorify 
God in our bodies and spirits, which are his." 
When the mortification of sin is mentioned, it is 
said we are " crucified with Christ," and "made 
conformable to his death;" that thereby " we axe 
crucified to the world, and the world unto us ;" so 
that "we reckon ourselves to be dead unto sin," 
through his death ; and that we are so completely 
dead unto sin, that we are even said, " to be buried 
with him." So in regard to that heavenly-minded- 
ness, which is the vejy life and soul of all spiritual 
obedience, we are said " to be made partakers of the 
power of his resurrection ;" to " be risen with Christ; 
quickened together with Christ ;" and that we are 
" made alive unto God, through Jesus Christ our 
Lord." How poor and low are the dry arguments of 
the moralists when compared with these ! If these 
motives will not prevail against our corruptions, I am 
sure no others will. 

Wor. I know that all other arguments in defence 
of morality have argued almost all morality out of 
the country. We never can have practical religion 
but upon evangelical principles. But Mr. Legal- 
definition is very fond of what he calls, " guarding 
the Gospel," which he only ventures now and then 
to bring out as a rarity. 

Loveg. Guarding the Gospel ! Why what guard- 
ing can the Gospel need ? They must have a poor 
opinion of divine truths who talk in this cold in- 
consistent manner. We are only set upon our guard, 
when we suspect an evil. And what evil is there to be 
suspected from the Gospel? What part of the Gospel- 
dispensation have I to guard ? When the Gospel iree- 



253 

ly holds forth the name and salvation of Christ only, 
for the pardon and acceptance of sinners, and all 
sorts of sinners, how are we to guard it ? Not by 
contradicting, it is to be hoped : nor by saying, that 
our repentance is to be mixed with the divine mercy. 
If so, I have as much reason to love and thank my- 
self, as I have to love and thank my Saviour; and 
while we lesson our obligations to love him, we cer- 
tainly lessen our obligations to obey him. 

Wor. Yes, and it is upon this very principle that 
they think the Gospel should be guarded, " lest we 
continue in sin that grace may abound. " 

Loveg. And so this inconsistent, cautious, tribe 
of guarders think they do credit to divine truths, 
by bringing forward the objection started, and which 
ever will be started, by its enemies in all ages of 
the church, while upon that very subject St. Paul 
shews how the Gospel guards itself: " How shall we, 
that are dead unto sin, live any longer therein ?" 
But these people seem to me, to have no idea 
of the Gospel, but as it is limited to the justification 
of our persons through the redemption of Christ. Is 
not the sanctification of our natures, by the influence 
of the divine Spirit, another essential part of the Gos- 
pel, whereby the blessing of personal holiness is ab- 
solutely secured to all the redeemed of the Lord ? 

IV or. I can't see what we have to be afraid of, or 
to guard in all this. 

Loveg. Why, I suppose, we are to tell people that 
as they are not to trust too much on the merits of 
Christ on the one hand, so they should be aware lest 
they trust too much on the work of the Spirit on the 
other ; as if living on the grace of the Holy Spirit^ 
could feed their corruptions and make them unholy. 

Wor. One would suppose, what you frequently 
calLthe Gospel of our " sanctification," operated by 
the rule of reverse : as though lectures on honesty 



254 

need to be guarded, lest they should direct us to be 
thieves ; or lectures on chastity should teach us to be 
impure. . 

JLoveg. I really don't know what they can mean 
by " guarding the Gospel," unless it be a perverted 
gospel ; and as perverted truth is nothing better than 
falsehood, so a perverted gospel is no gospel at all. 
Some persons seem to think, though it be as contrary 
to truth as light to darkness, that the Gospel is with- 
in a hair's-breadth of downright Antinomianism, 
which turns the holy truths of God into a licentious 
lie. Am I in danger of error while I receive the 
truth? or must I guard against wickedness, while I 
humbly submit to be ruled by that doctrine which 
is according to godliness? I wish all our worldly pru- 
dence about guarding truth, and preaching it mo- 
derately or soberly, as they cali>it,' may not lead to 
something much worse, by producing ignoranceand 
indifference, which must ultimately terminate in giv- 
ing up, or corrupting the whole. 

JVor. I think you good ministers of the Gospel 
have nothing to do, but to " contend earnestly for 
the faith once delivered to the sai 

JLoveg. Then, sir, we need not guard those holy 
truths, which God himself hath " c (J to the 

saints ;" and if delivered to the saints, it was designed 
of God, that we should be " sa&ctifiefi by the tru- 
Thus, all this guarding the gospe! 3 seems to c e 
home against the gospel itself In my opinion, i is 
a most dangerous expression ; no wonder if tfa 
consequences of these truths are-suspected by o 
while we seem to suspect them ourselves. 

Wor. I don't know that Mr. Deliberate is by any 
means such a great " guarder of the gospel" as is 
Mr. Legal-definition. I believe h& knows much more 
of the truth, and is therefore much less airaid of 
preaching it, though his style of preaching renders 
him tedious and dull. 



255 > 

Loveg. When I was curate at Abley, there was a 
clergyman in those parts, who lived in almost the 
next parish to my honest warm-hearted friend Mr. 
Slapdash, called Mr. Slopdash ; and he seemed to be 
just the reverse of Mr. Deliberate. While one scarcely 
dare speak at all, but as he continues looking at 
every expression again and again, lest it should be 
otherwise than the most judicious and correct ; the 
other, without any consideration whatever, would 
be pouring out vollies of the most disgustful non- 
sense. Notwithstanding the cold, plodding, phleg- 
matic disposition of Mr. Deliberate, may render him 
a heavy preacher, yet I had rather a thousand times 
attend on the good sense of the one, than the mere 
rhapsody and nonsense of the other. 

Mrs. Wor. And so had I. But then it appears to 
me, that of two evils I should only choose the least. 

Mrs. Considerate asked Farmer Littleworth how 
he liked the sermon, and he said- — " Ah, madam, to 
my liking, our own dear minister out-tops them ail. 
This gentleman has so many heads and tails, and so 
many tops and bottoms to his sermons, that we coun- 
try folk^ can scarce know how to make him out. And 
poor Thomas Newman said, while Mr. Deliberate was 
splitting his heads, by attending to him, that he 
thought his head would have been split at the same 
time." 

Loveg. Why, half the skill of preaching to a coun- 
try congregation — — 

Wor. (Interrupts) Aye, and to a city congrega- 
tion too, for not one in ten of them are wiser than 
ourselves. 

Loveg. I quite agree with you, sir. But I was 
going to observe, that half the skill of preaching, is 
to bring truth home to the lowest capacity oi our 
hearers ; and while we attempt to make them wise 
unto salvation, the world Will certainly call it " the 
foolishness of preaching ; " but still it will be widely 



256 

different from foolish preaching. While we can preach 
with " simplicity and godly sincerity, and not with 
fleshly wisdom," we may expect the same blessing 
which attended the ministry of St. Paul. He tells 
us plainly how he went to work, " And I, brethren, 
when I came unto you, came not with excellency of 
speech and of wisdom, declaring to you the testimo- 
ny of God ; for I was determined to know nothing 
among you, save Jesus Christ and him crucified; and 
my speech and my preaching was not with the en- 
ticing words of man's wisdom, but in demonstration 
of the Spirit and of power :" and what a noble reason 
he adds to all this, " lest your faith should stand in 
the wisdom of man, and not in the power of God." 

Wor. But, sir, I think Mr. Deliberated sermons 
were not in that style notwithstanding : he does not 
aim at what some fulsome pretended orators suppose 
to be the excellency of speech or wisdom. 

Loveg. I quite agree with you, sir, and I did not 
quote that passage from scripture as immediately 
levelling its meaning against one of his description. 
Mr. Deliberate is a good man, and a man of learn- 
ing and thought, and our natural dispositions all 
widely differ from each other. 

Wots Just so I conceive of matters. But I am so 
much interested to hear the result of your journey to 
Locksbury, that I must beg leave to interrupt the 
present conversation, and mate some enquiries about 
that event. 

Loveg. Oh, sir, the nearer the poor widow came 
towards Locksbury, the more her mind was agitated 
and distressed. I thought she would have lost her 
reason a second time. 

Wor. I suppose that her feelings must have been 
keen indeed. I am almost afraid to ask, what was 
the result of the first interview. 

Loveg. Sir, the people of the inn, where we alight- 
ed, directly knew who she was, and there was an 



257 

immediate buzz about the house; I requested there- 
fore that she might be shewn into some back room, 
where she sat, more agitated and affected than I can 
well express, and there I left her while I went and 
advertised her father of her arrival. When I came 
into his house and told him who I was, how he trem- 
bled and wept, and in what strong terms of gratitude 
he expressed himself for all the attention paid to his 
daughter ! He wanted to go with me immediately 
to conduct her to his house, but I objected to this 
plan, as I thought this first interview, which was 
likely to be a very affecting one, had better not take 
place in a public house. He immediately saw the 
propriety of my objection ; it was therefore judged 
best, that I should return and conduct her to her fa- 
ther's house. 

Mrs. Wor. Oh! what a painful office this must 
have been ? I wish Sir Charles had been there to 
have seen the consequences of his abominable and 
brutal conduct. 

Lav eg. Why, madam, it is supposed that misera- 
ble creature is now no more, 
Mrs. Wor. What is he dead? " 
Loveg. It is strongly reported about Locksbiny, 
that, soon after Mrs. Chipman left him, he went 
over to Ireland, where he thought it might be mere 
convenient to assume another name, and there, fight- 
ing a duel with one of the same stamp with himself, 
was killed upon the spot. But as for such monsters, 
they are quite callous to all the fine feelings of na- 
tural affection, while sunk in the gratification of 
their mere brutal appetites. The scene, however, 
between Mrs. Chipman and her father was so affect- 
ing that it almost overset me.* 

* Report at present only says, that after Sir Charles had worn, 
. out the credit of his own name in "England he went over to Ireland, 

Vol. II. Z 



258 

Wor. It will be well if the bare recital of matters 
does not overset us all : but we must hear it. 

Loveg. When I returned, I told her how affecti- 
onately her father designed to receive her. She cried, 
" Had he treated me with severity and contempt, 
that I think I could have borne, for I know I have 
deserved it ; but, oh, what I feel at the thought, that 
such a monster should be treated with so much af- 
fection and love, while I deserve to be abhorred by 
ail I" It was some time before I could get her to 
move off her chair to attempt the walk ; and every 
step she took reminded me of a criminal going to 
execution. Though I begged her to suppress the 
emotions of her mind as much as she could, yet the 
moment her father opened the door, she was down 
upon her knees, crying, " Oh, my dear father, for 
God's sake forgive me, for Christ's sake forgive me !" 
He immediately stooped down and embraced her 
and kissed her, and said, " My dear child, I have 
forgiven you, — from the bottom of my heart I have 
forgiven you." He attempted to raise her up, but * 
immediately she went off into an hysteric fit, and it 



where he assumed the name of Mr. M'Fury. There he met with a 
military wild Irishman, captain O'Ehmder, with whom he picked a quar- 
rel about some of their vile intrigues ; on this account they met, and ac- 
cording to the style of our modern polite barbarians, (called however, 
among themselves, men of honour,) they fought a duel ; the captain pro- 
ved the best marksman, and shot Sir Charles nearly dead upon the spot. 
He had only time to utter two or three most profane expressions, and 
spoke no more. 

When the whole race of such Duellers are hanged as intentional mur- 
derers, for presuming to settle their disputes, excited by the mere freaks 
of passion, and generally in a drunken frolick, instead of appealing to the 
wholesome laws of their country, it will be much to the credit of a civi- 
lized nation. 

Is it not, however, high time, that the magistracy of the nation should 
resume the dignity of their office ; and no. longer suffer these umpires of 
their own disputes to proceed, without afterwards conferring upon them 
the dignity of the halter ? I question if this honour would not prove an^f- 
fectual remedy to so terrible a disease. 



259 

was full half an hour before she could be brought to 
her recollection : directly as she could speak, she be- 
gan ap'ain to accuse herself for her husband's mur- 
derer, for her ingratitude to her father, and for her 
brutality to her child. I then . spoke rather sharply 
to her, that, if she had any regard to my advice and 
her father's feelings, she must make no more use of 
that sort of language against herself; and then I 
went to prayer, 

Wor. And how was she after prayer ? 

Loveg. Somewhat more calm, but still very low 
and hysterical. I waved the subject as far as I could, 
and entered into conversation with Mr. Reader 
about the alteration of his views, as it respected 
spiritual matters ; and I found his mind in a most 
pleasant state of holy sarpnse at. his former igno- 
rance, compared with the views he now enjoyed of 
the gospel- salvation. But while he inadvertently be- 
gan to mention some of the blessed expressions which 
dropt from the dying lips of Mr. Chipman, the grief 
of the poor widow was rekindled almost a t s "bad as 
ever. She sat sighing and sobbing all the evening ; 
but as I charged her tomake no more of those ve- 
hement exclamations against herself, she said little, 
but wept much. At length she cried, " Father may 
I be permitted to see my dear child ?" He answer- 
ed, ' - My dear, you had better wait till to-morrow, 
till your spirits are a little more calm ;" and in this 
advice she peaceably acquiesced. 

Wor. But I should suppose, she had another dif- 
ficulty to surmount, in returning back to her hus- 
band's house. 

Loveg. Oh, sir ! the very mention of her return 
thither, quite overset her again. 

Mrs. Wor. And it was enough to overset her. 
What woman who was once blessed with such a hus- 
band, who had lost his life through her brutish con- 



260 

duct, could bear to return and find him absent? and 
what sleep could she expect, while lying on the 
bed she had so treacherously forsaken; and on which 
her husband had died of a broken heart ? 

Loveg. No doubt, but such must have been her 
reflections, and painful ones they truly were. The 
slaves of sin have bad wages for their slavery. But 
when Mr. Reader mentioned whether she chose to 
stop a day or two with him, or goto her own house, 
her grief became nearly as excessive as before. She 
cried, " Oh, that I could but have lived a thousand 
miles from the place, which brings to my recollec- 
tion so strongly every circumstance of my most vile 
and treacherous conduct ! But if my return should 
be the cause of breaking my own heart with grief, it 
will become me to submit to the most righteous judg- 
ment of God, should I be carried from the same bed 
with a broken heart to my dear husband's grave." 
Mr. Reader said, " My dear Jemima, you shall not 
leave my house till your spirits are more recruited ; 
but I'll send for your child to-morrow morning, and 
you shall see it." Thus matters were settled ; and af- 
ter family prayer, I left Mrs. Chipman in possession 
of the bed designed for me, and got myself accommo- 
dations at the inn : and sad accommodations they 
were. 

TVor. What sort of accommodations then had 
you? 

Loveg. Oh, sir, the bed was good enough, but 
in the next room, there was a meeting of some club; 
and the partition being very thin, I was obliged to 
submit to hear all their noise and nonsense, inter- 
mixed with language the most blasphemous and ob* 
scene, till about two o'clock in the morning ; and 
their horrid songs which they began singing* when 
they were half drunk, were worse than all. At 
length, however, the landlord came in, and begged 



261 

them to Break up. What a mercy to be redeemed 
from the filthy conversation of the wicked! 

ff'or. Things would not have gone half so far, if 
honest Edward, of the Golden Lion, had been the 
keeper of the inn. I'll engage for it, you would have 
rather been accommodated with some good clean 
straw in a stable. 

Loveg. A thousand times : how much preferable 
the company of natural brute beasts than the compa- 
ny of those who are brutalized by sin. But as it was 
found an insurmountable difficulty to get Mrs. Chip- 
man home, at least while I was there, I afterwards 
slept at her house, while she continued to occupy 
the bed designed for me at her father's. 

Wor. It would have been a desirable event, if she 
could have surmounted that difficulty while you were 
there, that she might have been persuaded to have 
engaged herself in some family concerns. 

Loveg. Sir, for the present, the sight of any of 
her old acquaintance fills her with immediate con- 
sternation. She has kept herself a close prisoner 
ever since she entered into her father's house. 

Wor. How then did she act on the Sunday you 
preached there ? 

Loveg. Oh, sir, she was nearly as much affected 
as she was on the Wednesday evening, when wc 
first arrived : her anxiety to attend militated so 
strongly against the sense of shame.— I therefore 
thought it best to come to advise her father to lay 
his injunctions, upon her not to come to church oil 
that Sunday, as she would have been a public spec- 
tacle to all the congregation. 

Mrs. Wor. Certainly it was the best advice, though- 
the shame she ieit is neither to be lamented nor 
wondered at. Indeed I always thought this the best 
evidence that her repentance was genuine. 

Loveg. That it certainly was. The Apas#ejspeaks 

Z 2 



262 

of those things, whereof the really converted chris- 
tian is now ashamed; and that they shall be made 
to know that it is "even a shame to speak of those 
things done of them in secret." I ever suspect the 
genuine repentance of those, who seem to express 
themselves with a degree of carnal indifference 
respecting their old sins, under a vain confidence, 
that they are now forgiven. I wish such sort of be- 
lievers would but recollect that there is such a grace 
as '" repentance towards God," as well as " Faith 
towards our Lord Jesus Christ." I hope, notwith- 
standing, Mrs. Chipman will soon have sufficient 
evidence to believe that God has forgiven her, 
though I am sure she will never forgive herself. 

Mrs. Wor. But how did she bear the sight of her 
child, which was to be introduced the next morning, 
according to promise ? 

Loveg. Why, sir, while we were at breakfast, 
Mr. Reader went out and brought it in ; one of the 
most lovely cheerful babes I think I ever beheld, 
springing in its nurse's arms, and sweetly smiling at 
its grandfather. He took and placed it upon the mo- 
ther's lap, she looked at it, watered it with her tears, 
affectionately embraced it, and then began quoting 
that text which had so impressed her mind : " Can a 
woman forget her sucking child, that she should not 
have compassion on the son of her womb !" and then 
quite fainted away. The child was taken from her, 
and as soon as she was able she was led up into her 
chamber, where she continued most of the day. 

Wor. What misery this poor creature has entailed 
upon her own mind. But did she make any further 
efforts to surmount her feelings, as it respected her 
child ? 

Loveg. Yes, sir, I believe several. But every at- 
tempt she made was with the same cutting reflec- 
tions against herself. Sir, we, who are blessed with 



263 

children, and with a parental love towards them,, 
may judge what she felt, when she was recovered by 
the grace of God, from that brutalized state of mind 
winch possessed her while she was captivated by 
that unprincipled monster of iniquity. However, 
towards the latter end of my stay, she would v now 
and then attempt to smile on her child, while every 
smile returned by the child would be sure to bring 
a fresh tear from her eye. 

Wor. It is well, if the child don't lose both its pa* 
rents by the same unhappy event. 

Loveg. Sometimes I fear this will be the case ; at 
other times I have my hopes that she will still sur- 
vive her grief. I requested Mr. Reader to set her 
about some household affairs, and to try to divert 
her attention by the use of the needle, and this was 
done with some success. Though oftentimes while 
she has been at her work, she would bedew it with 
her tears, till completely overcome by the recollec- 
tion of her former misconduct ; she would then en- 
tirely lay her w ork aside, and again give way to the 
excessive grief of her mind. 

Wor. It must have been exceedingly distressing to 
her poor father, to have seen her overpowered by 
such excessive grief. 

Loveg. The grief of the parent was nearly equal 
to that of the daughter, though he exemplified asto- 
nishing patience on the occasion. All his affection 
seems entirely restored ; he loves her now as much 
as ever he once could blame her. It is amazing, 
what the forgiving love and converting grace of God 
^loes on the hearts of all the children of God, 

Wor. Did she not in any degree recover her spirits 
while you were there ? 

Loveg. I humbly trust she did : there were such 
cheering prospects of good, which attended the di- 
vine services on the Sunday, as revived the hearts of 



264" 

all ; though my final departure from Locksbury ex- 
ceedingly depressed her spirits. 

Wor. That must have been a very trying moment 
between you both. 

Loveg. I am sure, sir, I could not have sustained 
the concluding interview without a veiy consider- 
able injury to her feelings and my own : I therefore 
took my farewel by sending her a letter, and at the 
same time I composed for her a penitential hymn. 

Mrs. Wor. Do, sir, let us see a copy of it. 

Loveg. Oh, madam, my poor rhymes scarcely de- 
serve the name of poetry ; if I had by me a correct 
copy, it would never be worth your perusal. 

Mrs. Wor. Leave us to judge of that ; we must 
hear it. 

After much persuasion, Mr. Lovegood submitted. 
He is a man of uncommon modesty, though of con- 
siderable ability. He lives much, as Moses did, on 
the mount with God : and as this made Moses's face 
to shine, " though he wist not that his face shone," 
when he came down from the mount, to do the 
work of God below : so also it is with Mr. Love- 
good, though, in my opinion, he shines less as a 
poet, than as a divine. However, from some short- 
hand notes he had in his pocket book, he delivered 
the following hymn, supposing it to be the genuine 
experience before God of an humbled sinner of her 
description, panting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus 
Christ unto eternal life. 



THE HYMN. 



And must 1 sink beneath my ioad f 
By weighty guilt bcrne down ? 

How can I bear the heavy rod, 
Of G>;d's eternal frown ? 



265 

Who can thy righteous pow'r withstand, 

Or who thy wrath restrain ? 
"But mercy still withholds thy hand, 

And lets me here remain. 



Why should'st thou yet forbear to slay, 

If not inclin'd to spare ? 
Shall I then fling all hope away, 

And yield to wild despair ? 

This were my sad account to swell, 

Too big to be forgiv'n ; 
All sins lead down to death and hell, 

But this shuts out from heav'n. 

No ; still I'll hope for grace divine, 

That mercy may abound ; 
Others with guilt, as vile as mine, 

Have still thy mercy found. 

Peter deny'd his blessed Lord, 
With base blaspheming breath ; 

Paul rag'd against his heavenly word, 
And hunted saints to death. 

What tho' a Magdalene had been 
Of seven foul fiends possess'd ? 

Yet Peter, Paul, and Magdalene, 
Were with forgiveness bless'd. 

And why not I this grace obtain ? 

Did not my Saviour die ! 
Or did he shed his blood in Tain, 

To ransom such as I ? 

O ! let me hear thy gracious call ; 

" Come thou, with guilt oppress'd P 
" On me let all thy burthens fall, 

" I give the weary rest." f 

The door I trust is open still, 
Whate'er my guilt has been, 

And, since 'tis my Redeemer's will, 
I'll humbly enter in. 



Job 



Mrs. Wor. Well, sir, we are, I dare say, all of 
opinion that you need riot have been so much asha- 
med of your poetry : But, oh, what a mercy to be 
kept from the evil propensities of our corrupted 
hearts, and to be under the sanctifying influences of 
God's most blessed Spirit ! 

JLoveg. Yes, madam, the b awe enjoy in 

this world in being so graciously converted, so mer- 
cifully preserved and kept, are inexpressible ; in the 
next they will be infinite. 

Airs. Wor. Oh,' sir, how shall we .sufficiently ex- 
press ourselves for the kind providence which sent 
you among us? Mr. Worthy and I both felt we 
wanted something, but we knew not what. 

This observation of Mrs. Worthy coming home 
rather personally to Mr. Lovegocd, rendered the 
conversation desultory, though still edifying. It 
turned upon the following subject, " What is there, 
which thou hast not received ?" But as the author 
aims at an abridgement of every subject, remember- 
ing the old Greek proverb, " A great book, a great 
evil; 55 he begs leave to close the present dialogue, 
and resume the subject when the conversation may 
be more to the point 



267 



DIALOGUE XXXII. 



BETWEEN THE FAMILY OF THE WORTHYS 
AND MR. LOVEGOOD. 



CONTAINING THE .CHARACTER OF MR, FRIBBLE, AND SOME 
FURTHER NARRATION OF EVENTS OCCASIONED BY MR. 
LOVEGOOd's VISIT TO LOCKSBURY. 

JVor. T X T ELL, sir, you have now told us all you 
* * know respecting Mrs. Chipman: wernust 
request you next to tell us how it tared with you on 
the Sunday. 

Loveg. Sir, you should first ask me how it fared 
with me on the Saturday. 

Wor. Begin where you like. But we want to know 
how you succeeded with Mr. Fribble, according to 
the dying request of Mr. Chipman. 

Loveg. Oh, sir, after Mr. Reader had sent him 
word of my arrival, he came and called on us. I 
found him as complete a puppy as ever I met with 
in my life ; and he invited me and Mr. Reader, with 
a vast deal of affectation, (for his father it seems was 
a dancing master) to tea with him, as he was pleased 
to express himself, on the Saturday evening. 

Wor. Did you accept the invitation ? 

Loveg. I conceived it was not in my power to say 
No : but I told Mr. Reader it could be only on the 
condition that he should go with me ; and we had 
such a dose ! 

JVor. I suppose you found him to be a most curi- 



268 

ous sprig of divinity, according to the fashionable 
taste of the day. 

Mrs. Wor. How could you hit it offtogether ? 

Loveg. Why 5 first, madam, he began bowing and 
scraping, with such an abundance of compliments, 
that I could not tell what to do with them. 

Mrs. Wor. Not with one half of them, I suppose. 

Loveg. No — nor with one quarter of them, ma- 
dam. 

Wor. After the compliments were all over, how 
did you proceed ? 

Loveg. Sir, he began chattering away at a most 
extraordinary rate. But the first thing which struck 
me was trie furniture of his roorcu On one peg 
were hung a pair of skaits with red Morocco straps; 
on another his violin ; at another place his bows 
and arrows were exhibited, as he was a member of 
an archers' club ; over his chimney-piece were piled 
his gttn and other accoutrements for that sport, with 
two or three dog-collars ; then there was his back- 
gammon-table, his cribbage-board, and, among other 
pretty play things, he had his battledores and shut- 
tlecocks. 

Wor. From the furniture of his room, you might 
easily guess the furniture of his head. 

Loveg. I thought that was more easily described, 
by what appeared on two or three shelves of books 
he called his library, containing little, as I could 
find, but a parcel of plays, loose poetry, and empty 
novels. 

Wor. Had he no books of divinity ? 

Loveg. Sir, he had a few trumpery pamphlets, 
and among the rest he had one book somewhat bet- 
ter bound than the others, called " The Religion of a 
police Gentleman. 5 ' 

Wor. In the name of wonder what sort of a book 
can that be? 



269 

Loveg. I should suppose a jumble of affectation 
and religious compliments. I asked him, however, 
out of curiosity, what were its contents? He dL- 
rectly auswered, he had only read a little in the mid- 
dle of it ; but that the author plainly proved that no 
gentleman should be over morose in his religion, and 
that th^s was supposed to be the fault of St. Paul, for 
that he was bred a Sadducee. 

Wor. A Sadducee ! Did he not mean a Pharisee ? 

Loveg. I suppose he might, but that he did not 
know the one from the other. 

Wor. And had he no other religious publications 
besides ? 

Loveg. Sir, he had a book called " Ecton's The- 
saurus Ecclesiae Anglicanae." 

Mrs. Wor. Sir, we don't understand what these 
Latin titles to books of divinity mean. 

Loveg. Why, madam", it means, " The Treasury 
of the English Church." 

Wor. I suppose then he had one good book at 
least ; for in the Liturgy, Articles, and Homilies, 
there is a treasure of divinity, remarkably good and 
sound : and it is wonderful how well calculated those 
writings against popery are, to confute the modern 
protestantism of the day. 

Loveg. O, sir, Ecton's Thesaurus contains no- 
thing but an account of the worth of different liv- 
ings, and all other church preferments. If I were to 
give it another name, it should be, A Guide to Prefer- 
ment-hunters; though they commonly call it among 
themselves, The Parson* s Bible. 

Wor. What could be the style of the conversation 
of this poor creature ? 

Loveg. Sir, the most empty and frivolous imagi- 
nable. At first, as I did not, according to Mr. Rea- 
der's desire, introduce religion too hastily, lest I 
should forfeit the use of the pulpit ; he supposed that 

Vol. II. A a 



270 

I had not much more to do with it than himself; 
only he conceived I might be of a more grave and 
phlegmatic turn of mind ; and that I was njine orator, 
as he called it. 

% Wor. I suppose this idea respecting your turn of 
mind must have had some check upon his frothy 
talk. 

Loveg. Not in the least; his chatter was incessant. 
He first began asking me, if I lived in a good sport- 
ing country. I waved it, and said, I was fond of 
my study, that I had a large family, and a good deal 
to do in my parish ; and that I had really no time for 
such amusements. He then said, " he confessed he 
was of another turn ; and that. he could not see the 
need of muzzing over a set of books all the day long." 
Then he went on telling me what a wonderful deal 
of game he had killed that season with one Esquire 
Madcap, a strange wild young fellow, who lives in 
those parts. Then, all at once, he cried, " Oh, sir, 
you really came a day after the fair ; for Mr. Mad- 
cap, our young Esquire, who lives about three miles 
off, treated us with a horse-race ; and really, sir, we 
had charming sport." I answered, I supposed it might 
be to them that liked it. But hints of that sort did 
him no good, for on he went, crying, u Really, sir, 
between the pleasures of the horse course in the 
mornings, and the card parties and balls in the even- 
ings, we were all alive." 

tt r or. Did you not tell him, it was much to be 
lamented, that the people of his spiritual charge, 
could not be kept alive, without the aids of cards, 
balls, and horse races. 

Loveg. Sir, I said to him, what was their life 
would be my death; and he immediately cried, " Oh, 
my stars and garters ! I think you was born under 
a strange planet." 

Mrs. Wor. A strange one, I suppose, to him ; but 
how did he proceed ? 



271 

Loveg. Sir, he said, I entertained very different 
notions of religion to Mr. Archdeacon Wildblood, 
for that he not only was at the horse-race, but that 
he rode his own horse ; yet he did not sport a solo, 
for that another clergyman, young Bob Dapper, 
rode his horse as well as the Archdeacon. 

JFor. Indeed, this is worse than bad. What must 
be expected from a church, while some among its 
very dignitaries are not even masked with common 
decency ! But was the rattle of this empty creature 
correctly stated? 

Loveg. Sir, when I asked Mr. Reader how far this 
circumstance was true, he told me, that an Arch- 
deacon, known by the^name of Jack Wildblood, 
actually rode his own horse ; and that, before com- 
mon decency was insulted by turning Jack into a 
Parson, and afterwards into an Archdeacon, he 
was an officer in the army ; and that, after having 
made his calculations, he discovered, from family 
connexions, it was probable that things spiritual 
would pay him better than things temporal*. 

Report also says, that while on the horse course 
his stirrup unfortunately broke, and that he sxvore 
at the mob most profanely to get out of the w r ay, 
lest, as he could not manage his horse, he should 
ride over them ; but his excuse, it seems, is, he 
does not swear as the Archdeacon, but as the Cap- 
tain f . 

JFor. We all remember an anecdote respecting a 
certain German prince-bishop, who was much given 

* Report says, some of these military parsons are still on half pay. 

f If the reader objects to the above, supposing that circumstances must 
have been exaggerated, I answer, would to God they could be contra- 
dicted ! But he may be assured, that, however bad things may be with 
us, they are actually worse in Ireland. I was told, when there the last 
summer, of a Dean who is as complete a jockey, and as finished a Jack 
Wildblood, as the person who is represented above. 



272 

to swearing.; and when accused of it, especially as 
being such a great indecency in a bishop, his answer 
was, he did not swear as the bishop, but as the prince. 
And the next question naturally asked was, if the 
prince went to the devil for swearing, what would 
become of the bishop? Now just the same question 
rests between the captain and the archdeacon. But 
how could this poor brainless creature run on at such 
a rate ? 

Loveg. Sir, he ran on as fast as ever, exposing 
himself and his fraternity at a strange rate ; though 
it seems Mr. Reader played poor young Bob Dapper 
a sad trick. 

JVor. What was that ? 

Loveg. Why, the worthy old gentleman, feeling 
himself offejided at the loose conduct of these giddy 
chaps, made a sermon on this text, " So run that ye 
may obtain," in which he lashed these abominable 
indecencies pretty severely. And this sermon young 
Bob Dapper bought of Mr. Reader, who sold it him 
under the idea that it was suitable to the season. He 
supposed it to be a thanksgiving sermon suitable af- 
ter a plentiful harvest ; whereas Mr. Reader compo- 
sed it as being a suitable reproof, during the season 
of such an abominable outrage against all the rules 
of decency and good order. * Poor Bob, therefore, 
after having procured the sermon, came home from 

* Were the ministers of the church of Scotland, or of many other Pro- 
testant churches, to act a part nearly as inconsistent, they would soon be 
brought into better order. If it be added, that it is to be hoped such in- 
stances are rare ; it is answered, it is much to be lamented that they ex- 
ist at all. The evil consequences of these things are incalculable. If a 
set of such clergy as these are found to complain that a set of preaching 
Taylors, Barbers, and Cobblers, not having priestly authority, interrupt 
them in what they call their duty, let them look at home for the cause, 
mend their own manners, universally preach and live the doctrines* of the 
Church of England, and see if these Cobblers, at least the most of them, 
will not stick to their stalls; the Barbers keep to their blocks, and the 
Taylors to their goose. 



273 

his sports, so late on the Saturday night, or rather 
so early on the Sunday morning, that he had no time 
to read it over, but trusted entirely to the good 
writing of Mr. Reader. Thus this redoubtable spi- 
ritual jockey, who was once " moved by the Holy 
Ghost to take upon him the sacred office of the mi- 
nistry,^ took out this sermon and began to read it. 
J'For. And the whole of it, I should suppose, was a 
most pointed declamation against his ow r n conduct.* 

i Some talk of persecuting these poor creatures : but before they begin 
upon the business, it may be well if they first would ask themselves if an 
innocent well intentioned man with a few good brains in his head, and the 
grace of God in his heart, be not likely to give better instruction in point of 
religion than such a, set, so ordained, and from such motives, as are too 
generally sent to fill the church, and then determine if it would be wise-, 
or politic, or just, to put such preachers under the castigation of the law. 
If the plea be, that folly and enthusiasm ought to be corrected, the an- 
swer is, leave it alone and it will correct itself. But from what has already 
been exhibited, others may deserve chastisement as well as the wildest 
enthusiast in the land. 

* During the time of Mr. Madcap's revel, Mr, Reader mentioned an- 
other circumstance which occurred, and which equally proved the incon- 
sistency of these things, as belonging to the character of a Christian, and 
In a ten-fold more aggravated point of view, when exhibited in the cha- 
racter of a Christian Minister. 

Soon after the business of the horse-race and all concomitant diver- 
sions were concluded, the bishop of the diocese came about those parts 
to visit and confirm. Previous. to this,, he very properly sent his circular 
advice among the clergy, to put into the hands of the young candidates for 
confirmation some small devotional exercises, by way of impressing their 
minds with a suitable improvement on that occasion. Among others 
who came to take a more moderate and sanctified peep at these fooleries, 
was the R.ev. Mr. Demure; and yet, that he might act consistently with 
the bishop's direction, while he had been enjoying these things accord- 
ing to the real appetite of his mind, (like a man who would now and then 
indulge himself with a little carrion as a rarity,) he wrote to Mr. Pleader 
*-on the subject, supposing that he could make their devotions for them as 
well as their sermons. Mr. Demure's letter and Mr. Reader's answer to 
it may not be unacceptable, as it may throw a further lighten the same 
subject. ;- 

** SIR, _ ' 

«« According to the laudable advice of our worthy Diocesan, we are 
desired to lay before the young people, who may be judged fit for confir- 
mation, some small devotional tracts, that afterwards they may be pxo- 

A a 2 



S>74 

Loveg. Sir, Mr. Reader told me he laid it on as 
thick as ever he could, and thus poor Bob, after a 
sho;t introduction, began exclaiming against horse 
races as the worst of revels; and that, H reveliiners 
and suchlike,' 5 were strongly prohibited : asking the 

perly instructed how to do their duty and to say their prayers. I apply to 
you, sir, for assistance, as you know this week we have been pr»tty much 
engaged in seeing our friends, who came in great abundance to partake of 
the amusements of Mr. Madcap's horse-race, so that we have not had 
sufficient time to attend the pastoral admonition his lordship has con- 
descended to send us ; and, as you can make such excellent sermons for 
us, I have no doubt but you can make some devotions also, which we mean 
to get printed, and distributed as directed by his lordship. Though I am 
sorry to say, that some of the clergy did not properly attend to the rules of 
decency and good order, yet, I'll assure you, sir, others of us, thank the 
Almighty, considered our duty, and came home in due time, so as not to suf- 
fer our innocent diversions to interrupt our devotions, 
M I am, sir, 

** Your obedient humble servant, 

" PETER DEMURE.* 1 

Mr. Reader, not a little ©Sended at the inconsistent sanctimonious pre- 
tensions of Mr. Demure, returned the following answer : 

«' rev. sir, 

*• I have received your proposal to draw out some devotional exercises 
for the young candidates for confirmation. 

" As to myself, had I inclination, I confess, under present circumstan- 
ces, I wish to decline the work, as I am now satisfied it is high time for the 
clergy to convene themselves together, and enlarge the plan by composing 
such sort of devotions as will be suitable to their diversions, that the world 
may be convinced respecting them, (for they begin to be much suspected,) 
that according to a scripture rule " whatever they do in word and deed, 
they do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the 
Father by him." 

** Now what I conceive will prove a high recommendation to this pub- 
lication is, that the plan will be entirely new ; for though it has been said 
there is nothing new under the sun, I believe devotional exercises of this 
sort have never as yet made their appearance ; while at the same time, rt 
wili prove a capital criterion of the innocency of the diversions themselves. 
Whatsoever we do, that we can ask G.od's blessing upon, will never do us 
harm. 

m First, for the mottoes to this publication '; and these will be best found 
an the Bible : 

** Pray without ceasing. 

** Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and 
patching thereunto with all perseverance. 
«♦ Continuing instant In prayer. 



275 

question, how any but the friends of debauchery and 
riot could sanction such revels by their presence V 
and how any christians, who take the Bible as the 
model of their Christianity, could presume to pa- 
tronize, by their presence, such exhibitions of mad 
and wanton riot, which so notoriously abounded du- 
ring" these seasons of entire dissipation ? Then poor 

" Now from these texts the real Christian is at least directed to conti- 
nue in a perpetual aptitude for prayer. 

" To the pious compilers of this new publication I beg leave to recom- 
mend the composing some forms of prayer on the following occasions. 

" A devout supplication before going to a tragedy. 

ie Another before going to a comedy. 

" A short form of prayer, to be said before a farce. 

" Another prayer also may be necessary before going to a harle- 
quin entertainment, or a masquerade. 

" Then let the reverend composers of this new work direct their devout 
disciples not to omit any of the accustomed forms before going to bed ; 
but, as a proof of their proper gratitude to almighty God for such blessed 
innocent amusements, let them add a thanksgiving prayer, which, for the 
sake of avoiding prolixity, may be made equally -suitable to each of the 
above mentioned occasions ; and then the title to such a piece of devotion 
will run thus. * A Thanksgiving Prayer, to be said after returning from 
a Comedy, Tragedy, Farce, Masquerade, or Harlequin Entertainment.' 

u And, as short titles sound best, I next advise a Puppet Shew Prayer, 
that people's heads may be made wiser , and their hearts better by their 
devout attendance thereon. 

" As children also take much delight in scenery, such as dancing dolls, 
he. whether they be large or small, it might not be amiss to make a reli- 
gious use of these pretty jump-abouts t for the good of the rising gene- 
ration, by never suffering them to go to a puppet shew, a play, or a ball, 
unless they can say pretty pat, at least, the first of the three things their 
dtr.-out God-fathers and God-mothers engaged for them in baptism, that 
they should renounce the devil and all bis works, the pomps and vanities of 
this picked vjorld, and all the sirjul lusts of the flesh. But to finish the plan 
of this new intended Manual, which I would recommend to be short, that 
it may be snug and portable for the pocket, as also fit to be bound up with 
the Week's Preparation, or the Companion to the Altar, should there not 
be a proper prayer also made before going into a ball-room, and another 
after returning therefrom ? A prayer also may be necessary before a card 
assembly, together with a few holy ejaculations, tf» be said between the 
deals. I would also recommend having a huntsman's prayer, and a horse 
racer's prayer, especially for such of the reverend clergy as commence 
th'.:ir own jockies, that the Almighty might protect them from breaking 
their necks, while they are exposing the pure and holy religion of the 
Gospel to the ridicule and contempt of the profanest people of the world. 
I lastly ask the question if those amusements which will not bend into de- 
votion are fit for the clergy, as their very office demands it of them, that 
they should be devout at all times ; and whether any recreations can, is 



sJre 

Bob again cried out against himself, " Feign to your- 
selves how preposterous would be the sight ; should 
that very sacred character, of all others the most 
mortified and devoted to God, exhibit as a public 
Jockey, for the diversion and scoif of the most wicked 
and profane:" asking them,. Whether they had taken 
the model of their religion from the wanton tricks of 
a set of heathens at their Olympic games, or from the 
holy word of God ? 

Wor. Oh, poor Bob ! how he was taken in ! how 
could he g;o on ? 

Lovcg. It seem he hummed and hawed, and stut- 
tered r;nd stammered; took out his handkerchief and 
wiped his face again and again ; turned over two or 
three leaves at a time, but found it all just as bad ; 
got out of the pulpit as fast as he could, and swore 
he would tell the Archdeacon what a trick that 
sanctified fellow, old Reader, had put upon him. ' 

IVor. How in the world could he face his parish- 
ioners after this ? 

Loveg. Oh, sir, he has but few of them to face. 
Men of this cast are sure to empty their churches ; 
but it should seem all his comrades had something 
to say to him ; one asked him, Who made his ser- 

any wise, be admissible among them, but such as leave them at full liber- 
ty to devote themselves to God and for the people's good. Wishing that 
you and all the clergy may be as much a credit to their office, as their of- 
fice itself would then be a credit to them. * 

" I am, 

11 Rev. Sir, 
1 Your obedient humble servant, 

"JAMES READER." 

It may easily be supposed that Mr. Reader lost not a little of his custom 
in the business of sermon-making. Mr. Demure, however, charitably con- 
cluded that he was a little deranged through family misfortunes, and so 
it passed off. 

* Some of these thoughts appeared in a former publication; which was 
not intended for extensive circulation. 



277 

mon for him ? Another wondered, how he came so 
dreadfully to quarrel with himself? A third asked 
him, if his great-grandfather was not an old puritan, 
and whether he was not so much in a hurry as to 
take up some of the leaves of one of his old long- 
winded sermons ? Poor Bob, it seems, laughed it off 
as well as he could. And thus ended this most dis- 
graceful farce. 

Mrs. JVor. Could Mr. Fribble approve of the eon- 
duet of Bob and the Archdeacon? 

Loveg. Sir, he confessed, that Mr. Archdeacon 
Wiidblood rather went a little too far, but that the 
clergy were flesh and blood as well as others; and 
that one of his best sermons was written upon this 
text: " We also are men of like passions with you." 
And when I told him, how dangerous it w r as to in- 
terpret the Scriptures according to the coarse vul- 
gar sound of words, as thereby we might entirely 
pervert them, from their original most holy sense and 
design; he cried, " I beg your pardon, sir, but why 
may'nt my notions onthattext be as good as yours?" 

Wor. Could he then be so weak as to suppose 
that our Lord's first apostles might be as wicked 
as a set of heathens, by having the like corrupted 
passions with others ; and, especially, when they 
came to preach the pure and holy dispensation of the 
Gospel, which directs and enables us to lay aside all 
our impure desires, and to " perfect holiness in the 
fear of the Lord?" ■ 

Loveg. I suppose he had not a thought, as it re- 
lated to the connexion of the words, that the apos- 
tles were only entreating the poor heathens not to 
worship them as gods. But I have heard, before 
now, that the same passage has been pressed into the 
service of licentiousness by these inconsistent preach- 
ers of morality. 



278 

Wor. Instead of being preachers of morality, what 
are such better than apologizers for sensuality? But 
what had he to say for himself? 

Loveg. Sir, he said, he thought the text might 
be taken two ways ; yet, as to himself, he had no 
great notion of frightening people by being " right- 
eous over much f" though, for his own part, he 
was very sorry people did not keep Good Friday 
more strictly than they had done of late years ; * and 
that these were the sentiments of his father and mo- 
ther before him. 

PFor. What could you say to all this rattle ? * 

Loveg. Indeed, sir, he gave me no time to say 
#ny thing, for he next began chattering away about 
the balls and card-parties they had in the tow r ri 
during the winter season ; and then observed, how 
impossible it was to spend a set of long dull nights, 
one after another, without something to prevent jo- 
vial minds from being hipped to death. Then he 
directly asked me, what were my favourite games at 
cards? but instead of waiting for my answer, which, 
by the bye, would have puzzled me, he began cry- 
ing out about a Miss Peggy Prim, a famous dancer 
in their town ; and how she moved like an angel ; 
and though Mr. Reader cautioned me against religi- 
ous topics with him, yet I could not but observe, 
that I did not think a set of silly Misses in a ball- 
room moved like angels. 

Wor. How did he take your hints ? 

Loveg. Oh, sir, the shatter-brained creature took 
no notice of my remarks ; but went on chattering 
away about what an elegant skaiter young Mr. Dap- 
per was, and that though he was reckoned a pretty 
good dab at it himself, yet how glad he should be if 
he could but exhibit in the same manner ; and how r 

* The author is as much for keeping Good Friday as Mr. Fribble, not- 
withstanding the superstitious abuse of the day among some. 



279 

he and young Dapper, one rainy day, when they 
could do nothing else, played at battledore and shut- 
tlecock, and that they kept up the shuttlecock two 
thousand and fourteen times before they let it drop ; 
and that they performed this wonderful feat with- 
in the space of twenty minutes and then cried — 
" WasiVt that clever ?" 

Wor. Some people are children all the days of 
their lives. One would have thought he had scarcely 
left off whipping his top, or driving his hoop. But 
is he not a great man for archery also ? 

Loveg. He is fond of every thing that will intro- 
duce him to shew his empty airs among the giddy 
and the gay. But, at length, I thought my patience 
would have been quite exhausted : for after tea, he 
took down his fiddle, and began playing with his 
tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee, and cried, " This 
is the first air my father taught me." Then he said, 
" Did you ever hear that charming fellow Giardini? 
he is certainly the first violin player in the king- 
dom. " - And when I observed, I never heard of 
that gentleman's name before, he exclaimed, " Odds 
bobs ! I think you know nobody ;" and then on he 
went, skipping and fiddling about the room like a 
monkey; and would, every now-and-then, be asking 
me how I liked this, and how I liked that ; and when 
I 'said, that none, of them .suited my taste, he cried 
out, "By Jove, sir, you seem to like nothing !" 
I just gave him the hint, that I supposed he princi- 
pally read heathen authors, a$ he had been taught 
to swear by their gods ; and immediately Mr. Rea- 
der took up the cudgels for me, by saying, I was 
fond of such conversation as had in it something that 
was rational and instructive. So he hung up his 
fiddle, left off skipping about the room, and sat 
down. 

Wor. I fear he was set upon a hard task, if lie 



280 

was only to talk about that which was rational and 
instructive. 

Loveg. Why directly upon this, he began com- 
plimenting me upon the supposed powers of my 
oratory, because I had persuaded Mrs. Chipman, 
though once so bad a woman, to renounce her con- 
nexion with Sir Charles ; and how much the curi- 
osity of the people was raised ; and what a fine ser- 
mon they expected from me ; and that there was 
one great orator about those parts called Dr. Puff; 
and that he had done all in his power to make him- 
self such an orator by reading over Shakspeare's 
plays, and by studying Mr. Garrick's directions 
for reading the Common Prayer ; yet he never could 
come up to the Doctor : and when I began telling* 
him, that the change accomplished was not done 
by my oratory, but by the grace of God, he directly, 
with a great deal of complaisance, replied, " O 
surely, sir, it was by the grace of God, and your 
oratory put together. 55 

JVor. I dare say he would have chattered with 
you upon any subject you chose. 

Loveg. I suppose he would ; for Mr. Reader says, 
the poor vain thing is very good tempered. How- 
ever, he entertained us fpr awhile with the history 
of Sir Charles Dash ; that he was once in company 
with him, but that he was not in the habit of telling 
those great people what was their duty ; that his mo- 
ther, Lady Dash, was still living ; and that she was 
a great church-goer ; and how mad the minister of 
the parish was at her for being almost the only one 
who came to Wednesday and Friday prayers when 
lie wanted to drop them : that she scarce ever missed 
the sacrament, and that she was much stricter in 
her religion than people are now-a-days. Then, all 
at once, he burst out, and observed, " The clergy of 
our day seem to diiFer about how strict we shouid be 



281 

in our religion ; Pray what are your notions on that 
point?" And when I began to tell him of St. Paul's 
account of the Christian minister, and the Christian 
ministry ; he again immediately interrupted me, by 
crying, " Upon my word and honour, sir, I confess 
I don't pretend to understand St. Paul ; and I know 
some of the clergy who are of opinion, that people 
would have been quite wise enough in their religion, 
if we had only the four Gospels, without any of the 
Epistles." 

TVor. I remember some years ago, that a vehe- 
ment anonymous pamphlet made its appearance 
against the writings and character of St. Paul, re- 
commending to the bishops, that all the New Testa- 
ment should be suppressed, excepting the four Gos- 
pels ; as all the Epistles, especially those of St Paul, 
had a tendency to promote a spirit of enthusiasm 
and methodism, as he called it throughout the land; 
and this book he dedicated to one of our bishops. * 

Wor. How could you answer such a mere rattle? 

Loveg. Really, sir, he saved me all that trouble ; 
for he had no sooner said one thing, but without 
waiting for an answer, he would start something else, 
quite foreign to the subject. All at once he cried, 

Oh, sir, as you come from near Mapieton, per- 
haps you may know Mr. Jack-a-dandy. He is my 
iirst cousin ; our mothers were two sisters, the two 
Miss Pratdes, that lived somewhere about those 
parts before they were married." I gravely said, 
Yes, I have heard there is such a voune; .clergyman 
who lives in the next parish tq Dr.. Orderly. Mr. 
Fribble immediately cried, " Dr. Orderly! aj<e, Dr. 
Orderly ! what a queer old quiz of a fellow he is! he 
always puts me in mind of old square toes. I suppose 

* I remember this horrid production made its appearance above thirty 
years ago, and was dedicated to Dr. Hinchcliffe, a late bishop of Peter- 
borough. ....".. 

Vol. II. Bb 



282 

he would not put his foot into a ball-room for all the 
world ; and I am told he won't speak to my cousin 
because he loves a little harmless mirth, he is such a 
precise old codger ; and they say his curate, Mr. Se- 
date, is just such another. Now you don't think it 
necessary that we should be so strict as all that : and 
I have a notion, sir, you are a little strict in your 
way ; though I can assure you such strict notions in 
religion won't do for the people of our town." 

Wor. How could you bear to hear this frothy chap 
run on at such a rate ? 

Loveg. Really, sir, I could not bear it, I therefore 
only spoke a few words in vindication of the re- 
spectable old doctor, and turned him over to Mr, 
Reader. 

JVor. And how did Mr. Reader deal with him ? 

jLoveg. Sir, he talked to him far beyond my ex- 
pectation, in a very serious and appropriate manner 
indeed. And glad enough we both were, after hav- 
ing been pestered with his nonsense for near an hour 
and a half, to make our escape. 

JVor. I suppose Mr. Reader's views of such mi- 
nisters are completely altered. 

JLoveg. Altered indeed 1 He wonders at his igno- 
rance, that such miserable bits of vanity should ever 
have been esteemed by him as ministers of the word 
of God ! And how he laments the pitiable state of 
that town, so awfully deprived of all that is neces- 
sary to their spiritual good ! 

But, sir, blessed be God, all this produced good 
notwithstanding; fori urged seriously on Mr. Rea- 
der the necessity of considering the lamentable state 
of the town, and to open his school-room, at least on 
the Sunday evening, for family worship, to which all 
his neighbours might have free access : and on those 
occasions, that he would offer up a prayer himself, or 
read a part of our excellent church service, together 



283 

with a chapter from the Bible ; and then read some 
of the homilies, together with other books of good 
ancient divinity, once universally preached in the 
church of England, but, till of late, almost as uni- 
versally laid aside ; a plenty of which should be in> 
mediately transmitted to his hands. 

Wor. Did he seem to acquiesce ? 

Loveg. Sir, he promised me to exert himself to 
the utmost of his power, but that he did not know 
how he could venture to undertake such a solemn 
charge. 

Wor. I hope he will. This will prove a much 
more profitable way for people to spend their Sunday 
evenings than in idle visits and foolish chat. 

Loveg. Why, sir, I have in a measure, I believe, 
pinned him down to the work, by telling him, with 
his leave, I would make a beginning on the Sunday 
evening, after the services of the church ; and that, 
if he knew any of his neighbours who were of a se- 
rious turn, he might invite them as to family prayer: 
however, if he undertakes the work, it will be with 
much " fear and trembling." 

Wor. The better for that In all religious en- 
gagements, diffidence and success are constant at- 
tendants on each other. But must he not take out a 
licence for his school-room ? 

Loveg. I believe not, sir, according to the pre- 
sent disposition of the town ; it is astonishing the 
attention and respect which was shewn me after the 
two sermons I preached on the Sunday. Prejudice, 
though it seems to me to be the brainless monster 
which the sons of bigotry universally adore, is, I 
trust, through the divine mercy, not so much that, 
idol in Locksbury which it formerly was. 

Wor. Blessed be God, as far as this, it is a glo- 
rious triumph. But should Mr. Reader take out a 
licence for himself and his school-room, where wouljT 



284 

be the harm of it ? He only swears allegiance to the 
state : and if he cannot swear allegiance to his pro- 
tectors it is not fit that he should be protected. 

Loveg. Yes, sir ; but then does he not, by that 
oath, put himself under the protection of the act 
for the relief of Protestant Dissenters ? 

Wor. Certainly so. But there is nothing said why 
he dissents; that is entirely out of the question. 
He takes precisely the same oath enforced on the 
clergy. The law only demands, that every public 
preacher shall be obedient to the state. You and I, 
if we lived at Locksbury, should be dissenters from 
Mr. Fribble's ministry, if not from the established 
church. What can be more disgusting than to have 
the solemn service of God conducted by such un- 
meaning fops ? That mild and wise law, therefore, 
u asks no questions for conscience sake;" but gives 
equal protection to all who can give a proper test of 
their obedience to the state : no man is obliged to 
swear he is a dissenter ; but all public teachers, whe- 
ther Dissenters or otherwise, swear allegiance ; and 
would to God that all denominations of Christians 
were as candid to each other as the laws of the land 
are liberally framed for the protection of all. 

Loveg. Upon these principles every clergyman 
may take out what is called a Dissenting licence, at 
any time, if there were occasion. 

Wor. Indeed he may, unless he hates the govern- 
ment, and wishes to overturn it ; and then, instead 
of protection, he deserves a gaol. 

Mrs. Wor. \To Mr. Worthy, .] Now, my dear, 
you have given your ideas as a justice about li- 
cences, do let Mr. Lovegood tell us how it fared 
with him as a minister on the Sunday.' 

Loveg. Madam, I found Mr. Fribble was willing 
that ) shouid do the whole of the duty for him ; so 
I : ad prayers as well as preached. 



285 

Wor. I am glad of that ; it was, I doubt not, a 
good preparatory business to the sermon ; your so- 
lemn way of reading those excellent prayers has 
been very useful before now. 

Mrs. Wor. What was your text? 

Loveg. Madam, in the morning I preached upon 
the purity and holiness of the law, from that text, 
" Be ye holy, for I am holy." You know, that is a 
favourite subject of mine ; from thence I expatiated 
on the infinite holiness of God and his law ; and in 
the afternoon I preached on the parable of the Pro- 
digal Son. But it was with some difficulty I was ad- 
mitted a second time into the pulpit ; for the first sa- 
lutation, after the morning sermon, from Mr. Frib- 
ble, was very coarse indeed : " Sir, [said he~\ you 
were too strict , you were a deal too strict for my 
congregation. Did I not tell you, that they would 
not like such harsh doctrine? I am sure my rector, 
Mr. Careless, will be very angry if I let you preach 
again." Immediately a very sensible sedate gentle- 
man stepping forward, who I afterwards found to be 
one of the churchwardens, addressed Mr. Fribble, 
and said: " Sir, after such an admirable sermon, such 
an one as we never expect to hear from you, I am 
persuaded, the people of the town will be very much 
disappointed if they should not hear Mr. Lovegood 
a second time ;" while many others expressed them* 
selves with equal gratitude and thankfulness for what 
they had heard. 

Wor. I suppose, after this, Mr. Fribble drew in 
his horns. 

Loveg. Directly*- His apology was, that he was 
apt to be warm ; but begged I would "be less strict hi 
my doctrine, when 1 preached in the afternoon. 

TPor. Sir, if you preached them such a sermon on 
the prodigal's return as you once preached to vis soon 

fib 2 - 



286 

after Henry Littieworth's return, it was a very at 
fecting one indeed. 

Loveg. Sir, through divine mercy, I felt the sub- 
ject exceedingly ; the riotous living of the prodigal 
was easily exemplified by the riotous consequences 
of Mr. Madcap's horse-race. I hinted, however, but 
little on that low subject, before I expatiated largely 
on the infinitely tender love of God our Saviour to- 
wards all returning prodigals. Then I made a dis- 
tant allusion to the character of Mrs. Chipman : and 
in the application, considering the circumstances 
which brought me there, I was 1 much more affected 
than I can express. I was so overcome that my 
voice at times faultered exceedingly, and I could 
scarcely conclude the sermon without many tears ; 
and indeed the congregation appeared not less affect- 
ed than myself. 

Wor. Sir, you never find our minds so seriously 
impressed, under a sense of divine truth, as when 
you feel their impressive influence on yourself. O, 
what ignorance and hardness of heart, that we are 
not all more affected at the glad tidings of salvation 
by Jesus Christ ! 

Z>oveg. I confess, sir, I never saw people more 
affected in all my life ! A vouchsafement of the di- 
vine presence, I trust, was very eminently upon the 
congregation. 

Wor. Why, sir, the Lord has promised " to rain 
down righteousness upon us," and to give us " show- 
ers of blessings !" these are the happy times of " re- 
freshment from the presence of the Lord." 

Loveg. Yes, sir, and we have a right to expect 
more under the New Testament than under the Old. 
Christ, in his commission to his apostles, has entailed 
the same blessings upon us which he promised to 
them : " I am with you always, even to the end of 
tfee world." And I really think, if ever I felt the 



287 

divine presence, it was, through the mercy of God, 
when 1 was preaching at Locksbury church. Oh, 
sir, how much we lose by expecting little ! and jet, 
what may we not expect from " the exceeding great 
and precious promises" of the Gospel ? 

Wor. And a man is to be esteemed as a downright 
enthusiast if he humbly waits the fulfilment of these 
promises! 

Lor) eg. It is no great difficulty to put up with the 
reproach of the world, while we realize those bless- 
ings so frequently promised in the word of God, 
But there is a wide difference between the enthusias- 
tical reveries of some, and these holy influences from 
above, which are so wise in their operations and so 
gracious in their consequences, as they are exempli- 
fied, by the peaceable fruits of righteousness, which 
are produced thereby. 

Mrs. Wor. Dear sir, you know we are delighted 
to hear of good news of this sort. We wish you to 
be more particular. I suppose the church was very 
full? 

Loveg. Oh, Madam, the church' was crowded. 
The curiosity of the people, all round the country, 
was highly excited ; not only by the return of Mrs. 
Chipman, but also from the character Mr. Fribble 
gave of me, that I was a very great orator. 

Wor. Motives of mere idle curiosity are fre- 
quently over-ruled for an abundance of good. 

Loveg. Such was the case here ; for it was amaz- 
ing with what affection and kindness the people re- 
ceived the word, how gratefully they expressed 
themselves to Mr. Reader for inviting me, and how 
earnestly many of them sought my acquaintance. 
Mr. Reader, threfore, hinted my design of intro- 
ducing family-worship in his school-room in the 
evening of the day. The w 7 hisper soon circulated, 
and the school-room was crowded. 



288 

Woi\ This was a good sign. 

Loveg. Yes, sir, and the effects of it were not less 
pleasant to my own mind after that service, which 
was very serious, and I trust profitable. Many of 
the people came about me, and pressed me to con- 
tinue with them another Sunday ; mentioning how 
lamentably they were served between Mr. Fribble 
and his rector; and that the next parish, contiguous 
to theirs, was worse off still, as it was served by one 
Jack Bully, who was a complete blackguard.* I 
told them how happy I should be to comply with 
their request, but that my own parochial charge 
absolutely demanded my attendance ; yet, if they 
could procure the pulpit for me, I would take the 
earliest opportunity to repeat my visit. 

Wor. Your visit to Locksbury was attended with 
much more desirable consequences than your visit to 
Grediton. But don't you think, you have already 
done too much mischief against the religion, as I 
suppose they call it, of Mr. Fribble and his rector, 
to expect a second admission into the pulpit ? 

Loveg. Sir, I am told, that Mr. Careless does 
not mind who preaches, provided his parishioners 
are pleased, and he is left at liberty to do what he 
likes best ; and as to his poor insignificant curate, he 
is nobody. 

Wor. Hardly fit to be candle-snuffer to a card- 
table. What an evil when such men are entrusted 
with the care of immortal souls ! and what a curse 
to the people who have them for their ministers ! 

Mrs. Wor. Sir, we now don't wonder that you 

* His character must be omitted from the general lis^, as it would be too 
bad for public perusal, only that he was a great advocate for boxing and 
bull-baiting; I suppose also for cock-fighting and cudgel-playing ; in or- 
der to give people an heroic spirit, and keep them steady to the church, 
that they may not be seduced by the enthusiastic spirit of the day. — See 
some speeches in the House of Commons jon this subject, as detailed in the 
public prints. 



289 

did not come home till Saturday evening, as you 
were so well engaged at Locksbury. 

Loveg. Madam, I found it impossible to leave them 
till the latest moment I could allow for their service. 
Many, even among the respectable inhabitants, in- 
vited me to pass the evening with them, that they 
might enjoy the same privilege of family prayer 
which they had at Mr. Reader's; and as to the poor, 
I was almost universally accosted by them, request, 
ing me to repeat my visit and inviting me into their 
houses : and, on this occasion, I found that the bun- 
dle of little religious tracts, you gave me for distri- 
bution, were very serviceable indeed. — Sir, I humbly 
trust there is a work of grace begun in the hearts of 
many in that town which has laid a foundation for 
much future good. 

JVor. One would think you had scarcely an op- 
ponent left throughout the town. 

Loveg. Oh, sir, notwithstanding the general good- 
will of the inhabitants, the Gospel, as in all other 
places, had its opponents. Dr. Rationality, the 
physician, Mr. Pestle, the apothecary, and Mr* 
Proveall, the mathematician, went about from house 
to house, saying, that all this talk about regeneration 
and conversion was downright nonsense; and .that 
they could explain all these things from physical 
causes. And I heard that a Mr. Discussion, a man 
of considerable reading, and a very leading man in 
the town, though it seems he is wonderfully wise in 
his own conceit, went about saying, he could not tell 
whether he was more disgusted at the ignorance of 
Mr. Fribble, or the enthusiasm of Mr. Lovegobd ; 
while several other comrades of Mr. Fribble, espe- 
cially one Jack Pert, pretended to ridicule what they 
could not understand. But still I humbly trust an 
abundance of good has been done : and the most 
pleasing circumstance of all arose from a visit I re- 



290 

ceived from a Mr. Thoughtful, a serious respectable 
clergyman, who seems to have been entirely bewil- 
dered with the religious notions of the day. 

Mrs. War, It will be a great mercy if some of 
the clergy in these parts should be influenced by di- 
vine grace to preach, what all of them should preach, 
according to the Bible and their own subscriptions — 
the glad tidings of salvation by Jesus Christ ; instead 
of downright keathenish morality, or a sort of unde- 
fined jumble between law and gospel, which nobody 
can understand. 

Loveg. Well, sir, I think Mr, Thoughtful is in 
a fair way of proving all that could be wished, as a 
minister, in those parts. He heard me twice ex- 
pound the Scriptures in private houses ; and, with a 
great deal of humility, he acknowledges his defective 
views of the plan of the gospel of salvation. His moral 
conduct, at all times, has been perfectly correct, and 
he seems to me like a devout Cornelius, and one who 
wishes to know the truth. 

Vfor. I should hope his acquaintance with Mr, 
Reader will be a benefit to them both. 

Loveg. I trust it will; for, before I left Locks- 
burj', Mr. Reader, seeing how many people of the 
town were struck at these things, became quite cou- 
rageous : though at first he was timid, yet he is now, 
however, determined to open his school-room upon 
the plan I first mentioned. 

Wor. I really hope an abundance of good will 
come of all this. Oh, sir, you must visit them again 
as soon as you can : we must put up with Mr. Con- 
siderate, or even Mr. Legal-definition, sooner than 
that you should neglect this call in providence. 

Mrs. Wor. You said, you thought poor Mrs. Chip- 
man began to look a little more cheerful before you 
left town. These tokens for good were enough to 
make you all cheerful 



291 

Loveg. Sir, I prevailed with her so far as to get 
her into the school-room on the Sunday evening ; 
she sat next to her father weeping and sobbing all 
the time ; but when she heard how much the people 
of the town were affected at the sermons, which had 
been preached on the Sunday, she began to take some 
consolation from what I had frequently hinted ; that 
God permits evil indirectly for the advancement of 
his own glory. So all this good was brought about 
at Locksbury, indirectly, by her unhappy elope- 
ment, in submitting to the intrigues of the abomina- 
ble Sir Charles Dash. 

JVor. But, under such uncommon displays of di- 
vine mercy, what need there is to guard our minds 
against the sad temptation of doing evil, that good 
may be the result ! 

Loveg. Yes, sir, St. Paul's caution on that subject 
is truly wise and good ; but all true penitents are 
sure to be preserved from such presumptuous sias, 
while they fear God and tremble at his holy word. 
The idea of apostatizing into sin will be more tre- 
mendous to them than hell itself; such as are among 
the pure in heart, who shall see God, will never 
more wallow in the filth of sin. 



After this commenced a deal of talk about Rege- 
neration, on -which point Mr. Lovegood was very 
accurate and great, and it might be very edifying if 
here transcribed for the reader's peru&aL But as 
these Dialogues have already swollen far beyond the 
original design, nothing further shall be related than 
an abridgment of the present subject. 

Mr. Reader wrote to Mr. Lovegood, about a fort- 
night after his departure, sending him the most de~ 



292 

sirable information he himself could possibly have 
wished to have received, as it respected his visit to 
Locksbury. This letter threw an abundance of la- 
bour into the hands of that attentive and invaluable 
servant of God. He had first to write; Mr. Reader 
a letter, half as long as a sermon, for his own private 
instruction ; then he conceived it necessary to aid 
Mr. Reader in giving him some heads of sermons, 
upon a better plan than what he formerly adopted : 
and, besides all this, he had to write a variety of 
letters to each of his new friends at Locksbury ; as, 
from the state of spiritual ignorance in which he 
found them, he thought it necessary to give them 
individually a copious share of his wise and pastoral 
advice. 

While thus engaged, he received a letter from his 
old friend, Mr. Slapdash, informing him of his in- 
tention to give him a visit : for, though he had never 
seen him since his removal from Abley , yet, that now 
providence seemed to grant him a release, he hoped 
they might be indulged with an interview with each 
other, from the following cause : his church was * 
much out of repair, and wanted also a consider- 
able enlargement : he had been reading prayers and 
preaching in the church-yard as long as the sea- 
son would permit ; and. now he should have about 
three sabbaths to spare before the public service of 
the church could recommence. This unexpected 
event gave an opportunity to Mr. Lovegood to re- 
peat his visit to Locksbury much sooner than he in- 
tended : he having been brought to a determination 
thereby to pass the first sabbath with Mr. Slapdash 
at Brookfieid, and then offer his services for Locks* 
bur) 7 on the two last sabbaths that his good old friend 
meant to continue in these parts. 
■ flatters being thus settled, Mr. Lovegood imme - 



293 



diately determined upon a considerable abridgement 
of his epistolary design, as a personal intercourse 
with his new friends in these parts was likely so soon 
to be renewed. On the arrival of Mr. Slapdash the 
reader may expect a further narration of events. 



Vol. II. C c 



i 



294 



DIALOGUE XXXIIL 



BETWEEN THE REV. MR. SLAPDASH, MR. MER- 
RYMAN, AND MR. LOVEGOOD. 



THE FOLLY AND EVILS OF SECTARIAN BIGOTRY EXPOSED : 
TOGETHER WITH A FURTHER ILLUSTRATION OF THE 
CHARACTER OF MR. SLAPDASH. 

AT the time appointed, Mr. Slapdash arrived at 
Brookfield. He first went to the vicarage : but 
as Mr. Lovegood's house and pocket were too scanty 
to deal much in the entertainment of others, he was 
immediately conducted to Mr. Worthy's, where he 
was most affectionately received, according to the 
standing order of that hospitable house. 

Here Mr. Slapdash first met with Mr. and Mrs. 
Merry man, who were there on a visit after their 
marriage. The unmeaning compliments of the peo- 
ple of the world are never needed among those who 
" love the Lord Jesus in sincerity :" Mr. Slapdash 
says he never had any, and therefore never at- 
tempted to fabricate them ; the courtesy of the 
Christian being composed of better materials. A deal 
of conversation naturally took place, as it related to 
that variety of events which have already been made 
known to the reader. These were heard with de- 
light and rapture by Mr. Slapdash, and attended 
with such remarks as might naturally be expected 



295 

from one of his warm and animated, yet affectionate 
turn of mind. 

Mr. Lovegoocl; however, was very desirous to 
hear how matters stood at Abley, after he had been 
dismissed from his curacy;' and one morning, after 
breakfast, Mr. Worthy being detained at home on 
some business as a magistrate, the three ministers 
walked around the pleasure grounds, when the fol- 
lowing conversation took place. 



Loveg. I am anxious to know how matters are at 
Abley since 1 left them. Does Mr. Steepleman con- 
tinue in the curacy, who was sent to succeed me 
when 1 received my dismissal ? 

Slapd. Aye, he has been preaching up the church 
till lie has driven almost all the people out of the 
church; and has been preaching against schism, till 
they are all turned schismatics, at least in his esteem, 
throughout the neighbourhood. 

Merry m. What sort of a character is he? 

Slapd. Why, he is half a papist. — He is quite a 
papist. 

Loveg. Hush ! brother Slapdash, you always speak 
so vehemently. 

Slapd. There is no taking the devil by the nose 
but with a pair of tongs :* and I am sure Mr. Stee- 
pieman's doctrine is the doctrine of the devil. 

Loveg. A heavy charge, brother Slapdash ! 

Slapd. No more than just, good old brother Pru- 
dence, be it ever so heavy. Who can bear the. 
thought, that a set of ruined sinners should have 
their eyes and hopes turned from God, to seek for 

* Alluding to a popish legendary story respecting St. Dunstan ; when 
the devil accosted him as a tempter, the saint took him by the nose with 
a pair of tongs. 



296 

salvation in outward churches, as they are called, 
and in the tricks of priests? 

Merry m. [To Lovegood.'] Why, there is a deal of 
truth in the observation ; thousands, in different ways, 
are deluded by these means : I shall take sides with 
Mr. Slapdash. But do, sir, be more particular about 
Mr. Steepleman's religion. 

Slapd. Sir, salvation with him is just the same as 
with the papists. " You must keep yourself in the 
church, and trust in her priests." As to our good 
old reformers, while they universally charged the 
church of Rome as Antichrist, Mr. Steepleman will 
tell us she is the true old Christian church, and the 
mother of us all ; and that though in some things it 
might have been necessary to reform, yet that in 
ethers we had gone too far. The power of the keys 
is his favourite topic, and that Jesus Christ has de- 
legated all the powers of salvation to the priesthood, 
who can turn in and turn out, lock in and lock out, 
just as they please. He says the reformers ruined 
the church by giving up confession and absolution. 

Merry m. Mr. Deliberate, it seems, before he came 
into these parts, spent two years of his time in Ire- 
land, and he gives an awful account of the horrid 
evils of priestcraft in that country. He tells us, that 
thousands of the poor ignorant papists can live in 
open violation of the pure and holy laws of God, 
without the least apparent remorse ; but directly as 
they transgress the laws of their church, or the di- 
rections of their priesthood, they are alarmed at the 
consequences, as though certain damnation were 
just about to overtake them; and I fear that Mr. 
Steepleman's religion is but little better.* 

Loveg. How many thousands there are, of all 

* See much of this in Sir R. Musgrave's account of the late rebellion 
in Ireland. 



29Y 

quarrelsome sects, " who make void the law through 
their traditions ; " and how terribly are the consci- 
ences of sinners screened from conviction and har- 
dened in sin thereby ! 

Slapd. Now, I said it, and I think I can stand to 
it, that Mr. Steepleman is quite a papist in all this. 
First, he supposes, should a man live like a devil, 
yet, if he be of the true church, it will prove a 
great step towards his salvation ; but, on the con- 
trary, should a man live like an angel, and be what 
he calls a schismatic, through this damnable sin, the 
most tremendous consequences are to be expected ; 
and as to priests, he will have it, that the efficacy of 
their functions is in their office, and is not at ail af- 
fected by their characters ; so that a priest, though 
as wricked as sin can make him, in himself, has a 
power, by a sort of spiritual conjuration, to send, 
others to heaven, while he himself, if w ickedness can 
take him thither, is going fast for hell. — Is not this 
popery ? 

Merry m. Indeed, Mr. Slapdash, it is popery down- 
right. - 

Loveg. [smiling.'] I thought brother Slapdash . 
would soon make you a convert. 

Slapd Why, can't you remember, when you w^ere* 
curate at Abley, at a meeting of ministers, howj^ou 
preached in my church, and what a sermon you gave 
us on that text, " Having the form of godliness, but 
denying the power :" and how you explained to us 
that excellent definition of a sacrament we have iri: 
the church catechism, that, in itself it was only iC an 
outw r ard and visible sign of an inward and spiritual 
grace ;" and was meant only as a pledge or token of 
the divine mercies? Don't you recollect how you 
ript up all the lying hopes of tho^e who trusted in 
these outward signs and formal churches, instead of, 

C c %: 



298 

peeking for the inward and spiritual grace ? — I think 
you were Slapdash on that occasion. 

Merry m. Well, well, we must all give up the . 
point. The consequences are reuiiy awful, when 
such WTetched substitutes are permitted to occupy 
the mind instead of the realities of the gospel. Just 
so far as a vain confidence in churches and priests 
prevails, the need of that which is inward and spiri- 
tual will sink in our esteem. * 4 The kingdom of 
God is within vou." 

Slapd. Yes, and one evil is almost sure to beget 
another. When you \to Mr. Lovegood~] were cu- 
rate of Abley, what were the grand objects the poor 
people were directed to seek after ? What you felt 
you preached, that you and all your congregation 
were a set of ruined sinners ; so that if you had not 
had Christ to set before them, in his justifying blood 
and sanctifying Spirit, you had all been in despair to- 
gether 5 and this you know was the top and bottom 
of all your preaching : and you remember in what 
a loving uniting spirit you were then all kept as one, 
having nothing in view but " the one thing need- 
ful." But when Mr. Steepleman came with his chaff, 
no wonder that such as felt any thing like a spiritual 
appetite were constrained to seek after something 
better ; and I wish with all my heart that they could 
have found what they sought after. But here from 
one extreme they were hurried into another; for, 
while they were driven from the church by the dis- 
gustful trumpery of Mr. Steepleman, they unfortu- 
nately hit upon a Mr. Stiff, who first, it seems, made 
an unsuccessful attempt to get into the established 
church, though afterwards he put himself under the 
tuition of a Dr. Buckram, and then turned out one 
of the most narrow-minded rigid dissenters I ever 
met with in my life. Having procured a licence, he 



299 

preaches in the farm-house where Mrs, Goodworth 
lived : and while Mr. Sieepleman keeps railing at 
separatists and schismaticks, Mr. Stiff will be casting 
out his invectives against the church and all establish- 
ments ; and conceitedly insists upon it, that their 
church government is the only one exactly modelled 
according to the word of God, and the practice of 
the primitive Christians. 

Merry m. Oh, the terrible consequences of these 
controversies about mere empty forms ! For, after 
all, who are the people that constitute the real 
church in the sight of God ? Why penitent believ- 
ers, when convened together, of every party. How 
dreadful, when any, who are thus saved and blessed, 
are found to anathematize and condemn each other! 

jLoveg. How much to be lamented is it, that a 
man of a meek and mild turn of mind could not 
have been found to instruct the poor people, when 
they were under the necessity of seeking for instruc- 
tion from another quarter. For although it may 
appear how 7 well designed the established church 
is in itself, for the conveyance of general instruc- 
tion ; yet still, in a variety of instances, through the 
prevalence of corruption, the end designed thereby 
is by no means accomplished. Were then the work 
of public instruction confined merely to any esta- 
blishment, however good, the evil complained of 
would be necessarily increased. It is evident, there- 
fore, that something is needful to be done, which, 
after all, cannot be done by the members of any es- 
tablished church. What an impediment, therefore, 
to the advancement of the general good is it, when 
people are c6ntending about outward forms, while 
none of these things are precisely settled in the word 
of God! 

SuipcL Mr. Stiff would have given you a good 
trimming if he had heard you advance that doctrine, 



300 

Loveg. I suppose he would, and almost every ex- 
dusive sect, on the most frivolous pretensions, has 
claimed the same ; but as for my part, I can find no- 
thing more in the Bible respecting these matters, 
than that the primitive Christians lived in connected 
harmony and friendship with each other ; that elders, 
or overseers, or bishops,* if you please to call them 
so, were ordained, or appointed, in different cities, 
to govern the juniors; and sometimes we hear of 
many of these elders, who presided over one and the 
same congregation, which happens to be the plain 
English of the word church; and some of these, it 
seems, had the puplic management or superintend- 
ance of the people, while others of them were its 
public teachers. 

Merry tn. Why, don't you think, that all these 
elders or bishops were teachers ? 

Loveg. By no means. That passage evidences the 
reverse : " Let the elders that rule well be counted 
worthy of double honour, especially they who la- 
bour in the word and doctrine:" and respecting 
these we hear the word of direction given to the 
people, " to know them which labour among them, 
and are over them in the Lord, and admonish them : 
and to esteem them very highly in love for their 
works' sake ;" or, as w r e have it elsewhere, " obey 
them that have the rule over you, and submit your- 
selves, for they watch for your souls, as they that 
must give account." It is strange that, from such 
simple rules, different parties should have formed 
such various conclusions against each other. 

Merry m. Why, it appears to me impossible that a 
precise mode of discipline could ever have been fixed 
in the New T Testament, circumstances as they then 
were being soon afterwards exceedingly altered. We 

• These words in Scripture are evidently of the same import. 



301 

cannot suppose that the ministry of the twelve apos« 
ties, or of the seventy disciples, was meant as a stand- 
ing order for the church, otherwise every preacher 
must continue a perpetual itinerant* Though the 
same need of an apostolical spirit will ever remain, 
because, from the corrupted state of the human race, 
the church is continually apt to decline ; and with- 
out such revivals we should be in a wretched state 
indeed. 

Loveg. From the epistle to the Corinthians it is 
evident, that the mode of worship among the pri- 
mitive Christians was very different from that which 
in after ages was necessarily adopted. While the 
extraordinary influences of the Holy Spirit rested 
upon the church, full liberty of speaking was allowed 
to all, even to the women, without any limitation. 

Merryrn. Do you think then that the women were, 
some of them, public preachers in those days ? 

JLoveg. They certainly were ; for the apostle di- 
rects them how to preach, with their heads veiled or 
covered in the public assembly. " Every woman 
that prayeth or prophesieth with her head uncovered 
dishonoureth her head," for that it was " uncomely 
that a woman pray unto God uncovered." This 
general permission, however, for all to speak was 
attended with some disorder, even in the purest ages 
of the church . And indeed it should appear, from the 
directions given in St. Paul's epistles to Timothy and 
Titus, that somewhat more like a -standing minis- 
try would be wanted, when the immediate and super- 
natural influences of trie divine Spirit should be with- 
drawn. We know, indeed, that an attempt to re- 
vive this mode of public worship has been made 
among the people called Quakers, as though the same 
divine power still existed. But, alas ! they also 
prove, that while one sect runs into one extreme, 
another can run into that which is directly the re- 



302 

Verse ; and thus they naturally prove the weakness 
of each other's pretensions. — It appears, therefore, 
to me, that many things must naturally have been 
left to future circumstances. "Still we should follow 7 
the general outlines of the word of God, and see that 
" all things be done decently and in order.''* 

SlapcL When Mr. Stiff was ordained, there was 
a great talk among them, how the right to the mi- 
nistry entirely depended upon the election of the 
people. As to myself, I cannot recollect in what place 
of scripture that sentiment is revealed, as being a 
part of the discipline of the New Testament church. 

Loveg. No more can I. And, what is more extra- 
ordinary, I never could find out, that any one pastor 
was ordained as the settled teacher over any parti- 
cular church ;f and yet I most readily admit that it 
is a very good human regulation, that people should 
have their stated ministers, and that proper means 
should be made use of to provide a pure and holy 
ministry, for the edification of the Christian church, 
and that the people's choice, so far as they are fit to 
choose, should be properly consulted. It is astonish- 
ing that such disputants cannot discover upon what 

* See 1 Cor. xi. ad fit. 

•}• I have heard that some have supposed this matter from the allusion 
made to the angels of the seven Asiatic churches ; but, in my humble 
opinion, prophetic allusions fall exceedingly short of positive proof. 
Others have also supposed that the word cheirotoneo proves the point 
from its derivation, to choose by the holding up of the hand ; but scarce 
any terms at all times abide by their original derivation. We find this 
■word twice in the New Testament. In 2 Cor. viii. 19. we are told of 
Titus and another brother, who was chosen by the churches in Corinth 
to take their alms to the Macedonians. This might have appeared to the 
point had it been to choose a minister. The other place is in Acts xiv. 23. 
where Paul and Barnabas first travelled through different cities, confirm, 
ing the churches, and then left them, after they had ordained or chosen 
them elders in every city. It appears here then the reverse to what 
might be expected. The elders were ordained,, not by the people, but 
,by the apostles, 



am 

a slight foundation they ground their contentions 
against each other. 

Slapd. O, how Mr. Stiff railed against our church 
episcopacy, though, I believe, other dissenters, mild- 
er than he, are much ashamed of him for his vehe- 
ment spirit ; and what a dressing Mr. Steepleman 
gave him in return on the Sunday afterwards, as one 
of a set of schismatics, insisting that it was impossi- 
ble there could be a Christian church without a bi- 
shop at the head of it ! How the devil must have 
been delighted at this ! 

Loveg. Well, but according to Mr. Stiff's plan of 
government, he need not have been alarmed at the 
name of bishop, for his brethren's notions of equality 
render the whole body of them a set of bishops or 
overseers among themselves, as the rule equally be- 
longs to all: such are the clashings between Mr. 
Steepleman and Mr. Stiff. No winder at the terri- 
ble confusion created on every side of the question 
by such extremes ; but, with the leave of Mr. Stiff 
and Mr. Steepleman, somewhat more moderate 
.might have been the discipline of the primitive 
church. I never could see the great improbability 
or impropriety in the idea, that, when the church 
began to be considerably enlarged, the presbyters, 
that they might make their government more com- 
pact among themselves, should think it necessary to 
appoint a superintendant over their body; as we 
have it in civil matters, a mayor in a corporation, 
presiding among his brethren, the elders, eldermen, 
or aldermen of the city : and what is there in all this 
that is either despicable or absurd ?■ and yet this 
might have existed without the least affinity to that 
strange unwieldy government, afterwards adopted in 
the times of darkness by the church of Rome. 

Slapd. But what a wonderful piece of work Mr, 



304 

Stiff made in ordaining what he called his seven 
deacons. 

Loveg. Why seven? 

Slapd. I sAppose that he might closely imitate the 
conduct of the apostles, who ordained seven deacons, 
as we find in the Acts. 

Loveg. Deacons ! where are they called deacons ? 
not in that chapter, but in the translator's preface, 
and that won't stand for inspiration ; though the sum- 
mary they have given to each chapter is generally 
very correct and good. 

Slapd. What must we call them then ? 

Loveg. Seven men of good report, the Scriptures 
call them ; — and I suppose their office was to attend 
to the proper distribution of- the estates sold in the 
times of persecution, when it w r as necessary people 
should have all things common. 

Slapd. Mr. Stiff has not adopted that into his pri- 
mitive discipline^ though that might turn to his ad- 
vantage. 

Loveg. Nor does he wash the disciples' feet, I sup- 
pose, and yet these were scripture precedents, as well 
as the seven deacons, as he supposes them to be* If 
it be necessary we follow them in one point of view, 
I think we should in all ; or else at once admit, that 
each body of Christians should act for themselves as 
they judge best, and still manifest towards each other 
all that candour and moderation which the cause evi- 
dently demands. 

Slapd. Nay, but brother Lovegood, do not we 
hear of bishops and deacons in the epistle to the 
Philippians ? 

Loveg. Put the words in plain English, and it 
Only means overseers and servants ; and this ac- 
counts for it, why presbyters or elders are not men- 
tioned on the same list, because they are the same 
characters. 



305 

Slapd. But is there not a particular account how 
a set of people called deacons should act ? 

Loveg. That is how the servant should act, and 
in all other places in scripture the same expression is 
translated servant or minister ; and this point, by a 
little attention, might easily be proved if we had 
leisure. * 

* I lay before the reader an abridged criticism on this subject, printed 
on a former occasion. 

The word Diakonos, though in very frequent use, is only translated 
deacon in two places in the New Testament ; once in 1 Tim. hi. where the 
word is carried through the chapter ; and in Paul's dedicatory address to 
the Philippian Church. Now I really conceive, strange as it may appear, 
that the mistakes arose from a Popish original ; that communion being 
over-fond of garnishing their church by a multiplicity of officers, and pre- 
tended mystical ideas, adopted in their vulgate Latin translation, abstruse 
expressions, only calculated to mislead. Hence the word Pardkfetos must 
be by them translated Paracletus, so they have rendered it in English Para- 
clete ; in our translation, the Comforter. So by the same Popish transla- 
tors, only in the two instances quoted above, we are treated with the bar- 
barous word deacon; and our language knows nothing of the character, 
but as received from them. To illustrate this : how preposterously would 
it have sounded, had it been translated, Christ was " madea deacon of the 
circumcision!" there translated minister, Rom. xv. 8. And still more 
so, is Christ the deacon of sin? There also minister, Gai.ii. 17. Thus 
again Christ speaks of his worshippers, " Where I am, there shall my 
deaconsbvi" there rendered servants, John xii. 26. — St. Paul, speaking 
of the civil magistrate, says, " He is the deacon of God to thee for good/' 
Rom . xv. 4. People little think, that the lord-mayor of London is a deacon, 
or rather an archdeacon, peradventuro. Phoebe, " a servant of the church," 
should, to have kept up this translation/been called a deacon of the church; 
and, if one wc -d be better than another she wdl deserved it. But it would 
have been a curious .translation indeed, had it been rendered, " Who then 
is Paul, or who is Apoilcs, but deacons, by whom ye believed ?" properly 
called ministers, 1 Cor. iii. 5. Similar to this, « Whereof I, Paul, ara 
miade "a deacon .♦" that is, minister, Col. i. 23 ,• and again, v. 25. " And 
so Timothy, ^e Grecian bishop, is also called a deacon." "If then put 
the brethren in mind -of these things, thou shalt be called a good deacon of 
Jesus Christ," better translated minister. See also, 1 Thes. iii. 2. So 
also, had our translators gone through with the coinage, and renderedthe 
verb diaconeo to deaconize, they would have been nearly as preposterous ; 
for then it would have ran, ' ' Pe er's wife's mother being healed of her fe- 
ver, arose and deaconized unto them,' : ' Matt. viii. IS. So it is said, " Cur 
^conversation is to be always to the use of edifying, that it may deaconize 
grace to the hearers," Eph. iv. 9. The wemen who ministered to our 
poor Saviour of their substance, that we through his poverty might be 
made rich, are said to have deaconized unto him, instead of administered. 
And, again, " The Son of man came not to be deaconized, unto, but to 
deaconize" Matt. xx. IB. And as a further proof of the clumsy effects 

Vol, II. D d 



306 

Slapd. Then we may as well say, those three ho- 
nest men who are digging in that shrubbery are some 
of Mr. Worthy's deacons. 

Merry m. Yes, and that poor woman and her 
daughter are two more of his deacons, Mho are 
picking up the loose stones from off the lawn. 

Slapcl What would Mr. stiff say, if he were pre- 
sent, to hear all this about his deacons ? 

Merry m. And what must we say about our dea- 
cons also ? 

Loveg. Why, that -Mr. Stiff and ourselves have 
both mistaken their real office or character ; and 
however wise it may be to put men into a proba- 
tionary state of orders, yet it would have been wiser 
still to have sdven them another name. 

o 

Slapd. And what must become of our archdea- 
cons also? Oh how Mr. Stiff used to play it off 
against that order of our church clergy ! 



of this aukvvard, unmeaning, new-invented word, even the damned them- 
selves are represented as saying, " Lord, when saw we thee sick, &e and 
did not deaconize unto thee ?" Man. xxvii. 55. And, to finish my cri- 
ticisms on this subject Judas was a deacon ; unless it can be proved that 
the person who does he office is not the officer : for thus stands the ori- 
ginal word, " He was numbered with -us, and obtained a part of this dea- 
cons&ip" — diaconia, more properly ministry. And yet this deaconed office 
was the apostolic office. Acts 1^15. brings this to a point : "thai he," 
the elected person, Matthias, " may take this ministry, deaconship, and 
apos~leship, from which Judas by transgression fell.'' Many other criti- 
cisms of the same sort might have been brought forward to prove that a 
deacon is no new officer, only a servant. Upon the whole it appears to 
me that some good people have been misled by the barbarous word deacon, 
and mistaken the servan for the elder. Dr. Owen, while he pleads for the 
independency of the churches, as it is called, yet strongly urges the neces- 
sity of the existence of a little presbytery for internal management of those 
churches. I believe a variety of Christian congregations would be much 
more happy among themselves, if, instead of being governed " by old men 
and maidens, young men and children, p ovided they call on the name of 
the Lord," and are admitted into their communion, they had constituted 
among themselves such a sort of a spiritual committee for the management 
of their church concerns. I insert this criticism that all parties may be 
less positive, and more candid and affectionate towards each other, and 
to see if I cannot bring Mr. Stiff and Mr. Steepleman nearer together. 



307 

Loveg. Why, in point of positive institution Mr. 
Stiff's deacons, and- our deacons and archdeacons 
also, seem pretty nearly on a par; only we. are not 
so strenuous to contend for their divine appoint- 
ment. However, hud our good reformers reduced 
the size of our bishoprics, and dispensed with this 
race of second-hand bishops, our church discipline 
had been nearer the model of the primitive times. 
Yet, after all, I see very little, if any, impropriety 
in the office of our archdeacons, if they did but se- 
riously attend to that office, as coadjutors in the 
episcopal work, by stirring up the clergy in their 
different districts to a more diligent discharge of 
their sacred work ; so that if Mr. Stiff chuscs to 
keep to his deacons, and we to our archdeacons, 
as mere names are of little or no consequence, we 
should act much more consistent with the spirit and 
temper of the Gospel. 

Merrym. Really, it appears to me, as though the 
apostles and their successors in the ministry, after 
they had received their commission, acted as circum- 
stances seemed to direct them, without la} r ing down 
any plan of regular operations for themselves or their 
successors. 

Loveg. So it ever appeared to me. And if this 
sounds loose in the ears of some bigots, who insist 
upon it that their's is the only form prescribed in the , 
word of God ; we need to be under no great appre- 
hension from the mismanagement of these outward 
matters ; each party takes into consideration the 
purity and spirituality of the word of God, and, 
according to their different modes of government, 
they direct their churches agreeably to that excellent 
rule. 

Slapd. I wish both Mr. Steepleman and Mr. Stiff 
were within your reach, that you might give them a 
good lecture for their bigotry. 



308 

Loveg. Though I utterly dislike controversy of this 
sort, yet, as I equally hate the bad consequences, of 
bigotry, I should not care if they were. 1 would then 
ask Mr. Steepleman what would become of his high 
church episcopal religion, were he to pass the Tweed 
into Scotland, where the established religion is pres- 
byterian. Then he immediately becomes a dissen- 
ter, or, to speak in his own proud language, " he 
would be living in schism against the established reii- 
gion of the country;" and would maintain, that there 
were no Christian church, because they have no 
bishops. 

Slapd. And consequently they are all going to hell 
together, though their hearts may be as full of grace 
as his head is full of these strange high- church ima- 
ginations. I think you might ask also, where is the 
harm if a Scotsman should continue a presby terian 
in England, and where is the harm of an English- 
man being an episcopalian in Scotland ? Have I a 
right to knock a man's brains out because he is a 
Jew or a Mahometan? How much more horrid, 
therefore, when they, who call themselves Protest- 
ant Christians, cannot have the least Christian charity 
one towards another ? I believe there is not a party 
bigot upon earth that would not persecute if he 
could. Blessed be God for a more enlarged heart, 
that we may love all that love God, and love to obey 
him. 

Loveg. And upon this principle, my good old 
friend, I feel it would be my privilege to hold chris- 
tian communion with every protestant church upon 
earth. Were I in Germany, it would nevei be a 
question with me, Are you Lutherans or Calvinists, 
but are you Christians ? Nor would it distract my 
brains, or concern me, if their modes and forms did 
not altogether suit my judgment or taste : and were 



309 

I to attempt a reformation of such matters at the 
expence of peace, I should do abundantly more harm 
than good thereby. As in the church, so it is in a 
great measure in the state. Have I, or has any one 
else, a right to go from state to state and try to 
overturn their different existing governments, be- 
cause they are not modelled according to that which 
I so much admire in my own ? This would be like 
an unskilful surgeon, who would hazard a mortifi- 
cation for the sake of cutting off a w 7 art. I wish 
people would but act more according to that excel- 
lent praj^er in our church liturgy, that we may be 
" kept in the unity of the spirit, in the bond of 
peace, and in righteousness of life." 

Slapd. Ah, church liturgy ! how Mr. Stiff rails at 
church liturgies ; while his own prayers, with a very 
little variation, are as much a form as any of ours, 
and I am sure not more scriptural, nor more spi- 
ritual. 

Loveg. I suppose, then, we should have but a bad 
bargain of it, if we were to exchange our forms for 
his. But what are their psalms and hymns but forms 
of prayer or praise ? I think the least he can do is to 
let us alone with our forms, while he is so formal 
himself. It would have been well if the poor people 
of Abley could have met with such a man as Mr, 
Peaceful instead of Mr. Stiff. 

Merrym. Was not Mr. Peaceful the minister, 
who was in the habit of visiting Mrs. Goodworth? 
I have often heard you mention his name with much 
approbation. 

Loveg. O, he was a man of a most excellent spirit; 
and though from principle he was a dissenter, yet 
nothing could equal his love to all who loved the 
Lord Jesus hi sincerity. Every thing that was bitter 
and railing he utterly abhorred, while he was the 

Dd 2 



310 

kindest apologist for all, however he might differ 
from them in things not essential : and while he 
would make an apology for himself, as it respected 
our church liturgy, to which he could not well sub- 
scribe, yet he would admire its general tendency, 
and even would say, with its few defects, that he es- 
teemed it to be one of the national blessings of the 
land, as a general knowledge of the truths of the 
gospel was wonderfully preserved thereby. 

Merry m. It is much to be lamented that we should 
lose the services of so good a man on account of such 
scruples of conscience. 

Loveg. Not at all. The dissenters are a very 
useful body. May God bless and preserve, them ! 

Merrym. I hope you except Mr. Stiff and his fra- 
ternity* 

Loveg. With all my heart. But these good men 
may work where we cannot, and in many places 
where their aid is deplorably needed; and why 
should we wish all the good men to work in one line? 
— It is amazing what an abundance of good Mr. 
Peaceful does among all the dissenters in these parts, 
his spirit is so tender and good. 

Merrym. I suppose Mr. Peaceful might have had 
some other objections against conformity ? 

Loveg. Yes, he had. His principal objection 
'seems to have been, the much lamented want of 
discipline, as also the too near affinity between the 
church and state ; but then he would candidly ac- 
knowledge, as it was national, it could scarcely be 
expected to be otherwise, and that national estab- 
lishments, like all human things, must have their 
advantages and disadvantages ; that consequently as 
the state had a right to her choice about religion, so 
the dissenters were left at full liberty to chuse for 
themselves ; and that it was no more right for the 



311 

dissenters to attack the established church than it 
would be for the established church to oppress the 
dissenters. But nothing delighted Mr. Peaceful's 
mind so much, as to make his annotations on St. 
Paul's view about the distinction of meats and days, 
and of meats offered to idols, which exemplifies 
so much of the forbearing mind of Christ in the cha- 
racter of that apostle, 

Merrym. Sir, my mind has been much occupied 
on that subject of late. How much the apostle urges 
the meekness and gentleness of the christian cha- 
racter ! 

SlapcL One wonders that an angry bigot can live 
after he has read those chapters, if he has the grace 
of God in his heart. 

Merrym. A bigot with the grace of God in his 
heart ! Two principles strangely opposite, and these 
to be the inhabitants of the same bosom ! — But let 
us retire into this pleasant retreat, and talk these 
matters over more seriously ; the weather is delight- 
fully mild for this advanced season of the year, and I 
fear this subject is too much overlooked ; I am sure 
it has been so by me. — \They sit down, and the con- 
versation recommences .] 

JLoveg. [ WithasmallGreek Testament in his hand. 3 
Nothing can equal the tenderness of the apostle's 
mind in the 14th of the Romans. You know that 
this chapter refers to those Christians whose minds 
were not perfectly free from Jewish prejudices ; and 
though they ill understood the holy liberty of the 
gospel, and their consciences were consequently mis- 
guided, yet still it was in matters not essential to sal- 
vation. These, while thus " weak in faith, were 
to be received, but not to doubtful disputations," or, 
in other words, to unnecessary wranglings.and dis- 
cussions* The dispute ran in this chapter, it should 



m m 



312 

seem, upon keeping Jewish seasons, and eating 
meats according to the Jewish law ; this was cer~ 
tainly for want of better knowledge ; and yet what 
a kind apologist St Paul was for them, in regard to 
eating meats ceremonially impure? What a spirit 
of love he inculcates by that observation, if Let not 
him that eateth despise him that eateth not, and let 
not him which eateth not judge him that eateth, for 
God hath received him." — " Who art thou that 
judgest another man's servant ? To his own master 
he standeth or falleth ; yea, he shall be upholder!, 
for God is able to establish him." In the same spirit 
he goes on about days, only observing, " Let every 
man be fully persuaded in his own mind ;" and I re- 
member that was a favourite expression with Mr, 
Peaceful. 

SlapcL I wish it had been a favourite expression 
with Mr. Stiff; it might have made a better man of 
him. 

Loveg. Aye, and of Mr. Steepleman too ; but 
let us forget them both, and mind the lovely remark 
of the apostle on the subject: " He that regardeth 
the day, regardeth it unto the Lord ; and he that re- 
gardeth not the day, to the Lord he doth not regard 
it : he that eateth, eateth unto the Lord, for he giveth 
God thanks ; and he that eateth not, to the Lord he 
eateth not, and giveth God thanks :" that is, on both 
■s of the question they acted according to their 
light, and consequently were not to be judged of each 
ether. 

Merrym. Aqgl what a. lovely conclusion he draws 
from it, " For none of us liveth to himself, and no 
man ditth unto himself! For whether we live, we 
live unto the Lord, whether we die, we die unto the 
Lord : whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the 
Lord's. ? ? What a wonderful change uiust have been 



313 

wrought upon the mind of this once stiff bigotted 
persecutor, to make him so much the reverse to him- 
self, so gentle and so mild ! 

JLoveg. But I think this most lovely spirit was still 
more richly displayed in what the apostle further 
remarks: " Let us not therefore judge one another 
any more, but judge this rather, that no man put a 
stumbling block (or cause of scandal) in his brother's 
way. I know and am persuaded by the Lord Jesus, 
that there is nothing unclean in itself, [though before 
the coming of the Lord Jesus many things were pro- 
hibited as being unclean,] but still to him who es- 
teemeth any thing unclean to him it is unclean." 
And now mind what a lovely conclusion he again 
draws: " But if thy brother be grieved with thy 
meat, now walkest thou not charitably, or (according 
to love : ) destroy not him with thy meat for whom 
Christ died."* " Let not then your good be evil 
spoken of ; for the kingdom of God is not meats and 
drinks ; but righteousness and peace, and joy in the 
Holy Ghost." 

SlapcL Stop there, brother LiOvegood, for a mo- 
ment, — that's the point. — If any could go to the 
devil with such blessed excellent tempers, I should 
like to go with them for the sake of good company. 

Loveg. You will speak like yourself; but it is 
next said, that " if in these things they serve 
Christ they are acceptable to God and approved of 
men." There is no hell for the holv, nor heaven 

* The reader may find, that Mr. Lovegood, in reading his Greek 
Testament, made some slight alterations in the text, which, after all, 
are so insignificant, that they prove how well the public may confide in 
the present translation. But on that expression, " destroy mot him for 
whom Christ died," he first remarked, that the drift of the argument was 
only to shew how the peace of such was destroyed, and not that the pur- 
poses of God according to election could not stand, if the will of an angry 
bigot should strive to prevent it. - He further shewed, that such were at 
least the attempts of such angry bigots, however unsuccessful those at- 
tempts might prove < 



314 

for the unholy ; indeed we have heaven in us upon 
earth when we are holy. But do let us finish our 
observations on the chapter, which I conclude to be 
one of the best recipes to cure the bigotry of the hu- 
man heart. " Let us therefore pursue the things 
which lead to peace, and the things whereby one 
inay edify, or build up another : for meat destroy* 
not the work of God." Now, in my opinion, this 
evidently refers to those immortal spirits for whom 
Christ died, and who are the workmanship of his 
Spirit. Then we see how the apostle next observes, 
that, through the liberty of the gospel dispensation, 
c< all things are pure; but that it is evil to a man 
who eateth with offence," against his own judgment. 
" Therefore, it is good neither to eat flesh, or drink 
wine," by which a weak brother stumbleth, is of- 
fended, or made weak. " Hast thou faith, have it 
to thyself before God ? Happy is he who condemn- 
eth not himself in that which he allows, for he that 
doubts" about the matter, " is condemned" in his 
own judgment " if he eat," for want of this faith 
or knowiedge; " for whatsoever is not of faith is 
sin." 

Slapd. I wish the worthy translators of the New 
Testament had used a milder word in their trans- 
lation of that passage. Mrs. Scruple, a • good wo- 
man in our parish, one of a very conscientious turn 
of mind, was kept from the sacrament a long time, 
till I explained matters to her, and gave her to under- 
stand that the passage had no reference to the sa- 
crament whatsoever ; and that the passage which 
still more alarmed her about eating and drinking 
our own damnation, did not mean eternal damna- 
tion, but a temporal judgment, as was evidently 
then the case of the Corinthian church : " For this 
cause many are weak and sickly among you, and 
many sleep." 



315 

Loveg. I fear many good people are sadly puzzled 
about such passages as these ; but then We should 
take more abundant heed to explain them. 

Merrym. It has oftentimes struck me, that much 
of the same excellent temper and spirit is likewise 
manifested by the apotetle, not only as it respects 
meats and days, but also in things offered to idols : 
this subject also among common people, 1 fear, is 
but little understood. 

Loveg. As we have a little time before us, we will 
trace that subject also. You know that the hea- 
thens in those days adopted a superstitious trick, 
in offering the beasts they killed at the shambles to 
some of their heathen deities. A portion of the of- 
ferings was sold, and another portion of them was 
eaten in the idol's temples ; while some even of the 
primitive Christians of a looser cast, two many of 
whom were found in the Corinthian church, were 
frequently seen sitting in the idol's temples, and eat- 
ing these offerings with others, as though they were 
ters too. The apostle,' therefore, very justly 
blames them for this lax and wanton conduct ; for 
though they knew that the idol was nothing, and 
the food neither the better nor the worse for their 
supersdaous conduct ; yet while weaker brethren 
were offended thereby, that altered the case. What 
a spirit of love he exemplified, when he said, " If 
meat make my weak brother to offend, I will eat no 
fiesh while the world stands." 

Slapd. Oh, how soon would these bitter contro- 
versies about trifling non-essentials be at an end, if 
all were blessed with the same spirit of love ? and 
what a distinction the apostle makes between that 
proud " knowledge which puffeth up, and that 
humble love \\ hi'ch edifieth ! " 

Loveg. Yes, and how kindly he apologizes for 
those who in j u dgment differed from himself ! ' 4 Ho w- 



t 



316 

beit, there is not in every man this knowledge, for 
some with conscience of the idol unto this hour, 
eat it as a thing offered unto an idol, and their 
conscience being Weak is defiled ; but meat com- 
ixiendeth us not to God : for neither if we eat are 
we the better, neither if we eat not are we the 
w rse." But then we are to take heed, lest this 
liberty should become a stumbling block to them 
that are weak; for " if we sin against the bre- 
thren, and wound their consciences, we sin against 
Christ." 

Merry m. Has not the apostle some additional 
remarks of the saifie nature, in the tenth chapter of 
the same epistle ? 

Loveg* Yes, and most tender and delightful re- 
marks they are. Oh ! what is Christianity without 
the loving and forbearing mind that was in Christ? 
but we will turn to them. He first observes, many 
things may be lawful that are not expedient, because 
they edify not : how beautifully he therefore directs, 
4; Let no man seek his own, but every man another's 
wealth or good !" And after some further direction, 
as it respects the weak consciences of others, what 
an admirable conclusion he draws ! " Whether 
therefore ye eat, or whether ye drink, or whatso- 
ever ye do, do all to the glory of God ; give no of- 
fence, neither to the Jews nor to the Gentiles, nor 
to" your brother Christians, called, " the church of 
God ; even as I please all men in all (lawful) things ; 
not seeking my own profit, but\he profit of many, 
that they may be saved." 

Slapd. And I think to this we may also add that 
most beautiful passage, which displays so much of 
the same blessed temper. " Unto the Jew became 
I as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews : to them that 
are under the law, (ruled by the Jewish law,) as 
under the law:" while he acted die sair.e towards 



317 

the Gentiles, as being without that law, that he 
might " gain them also." " To the weak, that I might 
gain the weak. I am made all things to all men, 
that I might by. all means save some; and this I do 
for the Gospel's sake." 

Merrym. Then it should appear the crime was 
not in differing in judgment with others ; for it seems 
they differed even wiih the apostle himself; but for 
shewing such a contentious spirit against each othpr. 
One would think that, this breed of coarse christians 
had never read the thirteenth of the first of Corin- 
thians, concerning that charity or love, " which suf- 
fereth long and is kind, that envieth not, that vaim- 
teth not itself, that is not easily puffed up" — Let me 
see, I forget what comes next. 

JLoveg. Why, that love is a modest grace ; it does 
4t not behave itself unseemly :" that it is a disinterest- 
ed grace; it seekelh not its own: that it is a peaceable 
grace; " it is not easily provoked:" thai it is an 
affectionate grace : it thiukelh no evil. It is also a 
most happy and comfortable, grace ; for it rejoiceth 
not in iniquity, but it rejoiceth in the truth : and, 
lastly, it is a most patient grace; it 4 * beareth all 
things, believeth all things, hopethall things, and en-' 
dm eth ail things. " . 

Merrym. While mankind is so corrupted, what 
need have we for the exercises of these, graces to- 
wards each other? ( To Mr. LovegoodJ Sir, when I 
.first heard you preach, that naturally sent me to the 
Bible, and I was immediately convinced the religion 
of that book was the religion of love. 

Slapd. Don't run from the subject, my young. 
friend, as I do when. I get into , the pulpit, till my 
text brings me back again. What becomes of the 
religion of Mr. Sieeplernan or Mr. Stiff, if this be 
.the religion of the Eibie ? 

JLoveg. Oh my old eood friend, I am more than 

Vol. 11. - E e 



318 

ever convinced of this, when I consider other passa- 
ges which have such a remarkably strong reference 
to our tempers, and the feelings of our minds, on all 
these occasions, before God. How much of the mind 
of Christ appears in that passage to the Ephesians ! 
" I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you, 
that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye 
are called, with all lowliness and meekness; with 
long suffering, forbearing one another in love, en- 
deavouring to keep the unity of the spirit in the 
bond of peace." 

Merrym. And what a heaven even upon earth we 
should enjoy, if all people did but prove the reality 
of their Christianity, by following the same apostle's 
advice, in . " laying aside all anger, wrath, and 
malice;" and instead of these, " as the elect of God, 
holy and beloved, put on bowels of mercies, kind- 
ness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long suffering, 
forbearing one another, forgiving one another; if 
any man have a quarrel against any, even as Christ 
forgave us ;" and then again, " above all things put 
on love, which is the bond of perfectness." 

JLoveg. Oh, this is Christianity indeed! I heard 
once of a deist who could ridicule the Bible while he 
was entirely ignorant of its contents and design. But 
when he was referring to the twelfth of the Romans, 
he was struck with his own wickedness and folly, for 
having ridiculed a book so w wonderfully calculated 
for the good of mankind : and how admirably are 
these blessed tempers inculcated in the same chap- 
ter ! " Let love be without dissimulation ; abhor that 
which is evil, cleave to that which is good ; be kindly 
affectionate one to another with brotherly love, in 
honour preferring one another." 

Slapd. Almost the whole chapter runs upon that 
subject; but the conclusion is most excellent : " Re- 
compence to no man evil for evil. If it be possible, 



319 

live peaceably with all men. Dearly beloved, avenge 
not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath. 
Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he 
thirst, give him drink ; for in so doing thou shalt 
heap coals of fire on his head." 

Merryra. We shall have enough to do, if we quote 
all the passages that relate to this subject : the sum 
and substance of the Bible seems to be nothing but 
love. 

Slapd. I am sure, all the epistles of John are en- 
tirely on that subject. " Beloved, let us love one ano- 
ther, for love is of God ; and every one that loveth 
is born oi God, and knowcth God." 

jLoveg. Aye, born of God ; and by that word how 
evidently it appears, we have no solid proof of rege- 
neration, but by its effects as produced by the grace 
of love ; for " love is the Fulfilling of the law T . 55 

Merrym. The doctrine of a divine change seems 
to me to be the glory of the scriptures. 

Loveg. Yes, and a full proof of their divine origi- 
nal. ]None but a God of almighty power could dare 
to give the promise to change the heart of man, since 
nothing short of an almighty pow er could accom- 
plish such a change. 

Merrym. I can put my solemn amen to that truth ; 
I never can be too much humbled for what I was, 
nor can I ever be too thankful for what, by the grace 
of God, I now am. — Oh, that text, " What, know 
ye not that your bodies are the temples of the Holy 
Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and 
ye are not your own? ye are bought with a price, 
therefore glorify God in your body and your spirit, 
which are God's." 

Slapcl It strikes me, I'll preach upon that subject 
in your church, when you are gone to Locksbury . 

Loveg. You cannot take a better. 



320 



Slapd. But will you try to make me a hymn suita- 
ble to the occasion ? I am no poet, , 

Loveg. I'll attempt to put a few rhymes together 
to the best of my power. 



Soon after this, Mr. and Mrs. Worthy and Mrs. 
Merry man came up, otherwise their profitable con- 
versation on the new birth might haVe continued. 
They took a further range about the pleasure grounds, 
and then returned to the house. 

Mr Lovegood shortly afterwards went his second 
journey to 1 ocksbury, which was not less grateful 
and satisfactory to him than the former. But Dr. 
Rationality, Mr. Discussion, and others, took the 
pains to procure Dr. Stately and his curate Mr. Lead- 
head, to whom Mr. Fribble very readily lent the 
pulpit, to confute the enthusiastic notions of Mr. 
Lovegood. But this they did in such an absurd and 
contradictory manner,' that they entirely confuted 
themselves thereby. Dr. Stately held him cut at arms 
length, with the most supercilious contempt, as be- 
ing hypocritically strict and sanctimonious in his re- 
ligion, while his curate Mr. Leadhead, could under- 
stand him no better, than, that he was a preacher 
of faith without \vorks; both of them charging him 
also with several other preposterous notions, the 
most contradictory and absurd ; and the result was, 
that the people's minds were not a little confirmed 
in those essential truths, which Mr. Lovegood had - 
formerly delivered among them. 

Mr. Lovegood also told about a Mr. Timid he 
found out in that neighbourhood, who, though he 
preaches the gospel, yet does it in such a cold and 
cautious manner, that nobody is the better for it ; 
that he is ever pleading the necesssity of so preaching, 
as not to srive offence ; and that he had no notion of 



321 

exciting people's prejudices, by being too plain. 
Thus, while. by attempting to render " the preach- 
ing of the cross" of Christ palatable to the world, 
so as that " the offence of it might cease ;" neither 
the world nor the church would give him credit for 
his design. Mr. Lovegood, however, is of opinion, 
that if he could be got to take some of Mr. Slapdash's 
elixir, which, while it warms the constitution, and 
is an excellent stomachic, yet never throws into a 
fever, it might purge him of some of his worldly 
prudence, and thus make him an useful minister in 
those parts. 

As it is now high time to abridge all these events, 
nothing more shall be laid before the reader, than 
Mr. Lovegood's hymn, made for Mr. Slapdash's ser- 
mon as mentioned above. 

The sermon, it seems, was much in- his own 
style. When he had to display the regenerate heart 
of man, under the metaphor of the living temple, 
his imagination became so sprightly, and his lan- 
guage so animated, that it v^as almost a query with 
Farmer Littleworth, Thomas Newman, and many 
others, whether he was not nearly as great a minister 
as Mr. Lovegood himself : however, the reader may 
depend upon it, that Mr. Slapdash became. a great 
favourite at Brookfield, and that his visit was attend- 
ed with an abundance of good, though it was the 
opinion of Mr. Spiteful and Mr. Doiittle, that he 
was one of the madest fellows that ever entered a 
pulpit ; while he was followed with the cold pity of 
Mr. Wisehead, that he was sorry he was not more 
rational in his religion, though he believed him to^ 
be a pood-hearted man. 

Were the whole life and conversation of Mr. - 
Lovegood to be drawn out at fail length, so holy 
and active was he in all manner of conversation, that - 
these little volumes might soon be swollen' into vo- 

E e2. 



J22 



Iiimes almost as bulky as the Statutes at Large ; on 
this account, many pleasant and profitable occur- 
rences must be omitted, while the copy of the hymn, 
mentioned above, shall conclude the dialogue. 



THE HYMN. 

" Believers the Temples of the Holy Ghost. 11 
Cor. vi. 19, 20.- 

Produc'd at fir"t, by pow'r divine, 

Man as a creature stood, 
A jsacred building in design, 

A dwelling-place for G od. 

With finish'd art the pile was rear'd, 

Well fitted for it's use ; 
Just symmetry throughout appear'd, 

And glory rlll'd the house. 

God smil'd in friendly visits there, 

And thus his dwelling blest, 
While solemn acts of praise and prayer 

The creature's love exprest. t 

But sin defae'd its form, and broke 

The stately structure down ; 
His ruir/d temple God forsook, 

And left it with a frown. 

Polluted thus, and thus abhorr'd, 

The house in ruins lay, 
Until again by Christ restor'd, 

His glory to display. 

Laid deep in love this building stands, 

Cemented with his biood ; 
Work'd ail with unpolluted hands, 

And fitted up for God. 

Here his transforming Spirit dwells, 

To beautify the place ; 
With kindly influence sin expels, 

And iheds forth life and grace. 



323 

Oh, dearest Lord ! return, reside 
Within each sinful heart : 

Be thou our king, and none beside, 
And never more depart. 

As temples of the living God, 
Thus shall we prove thy grace : 

We'll sing aloud redeeming blood, 
And chaunt thine endless praise. 






324 



DIALOGUE XXXIV 



MR. CONSIDERATE, MR. TRAFFIC, FARMER LIT- 
TLEWORTH, AND MR. LOVEGOOD. 



NO GOOD MARRIAGES FROM BAD MATCHES. 

SOME time after Mr. Merryman set the example 
of marriage in his union with Miss Worthy, 
which is said to be so honourable in itself, and was 
so honourably conducted by them, other matches 
were thought of. Henry Littleworth had the hap- 
piness to be united to Mr. Considerate's daughter, 
and Bifiy Traffic was determined to make himself 
happy with Miss Nancy Littleworth ; and about the 
same time Miss Patty Littleworth was married to 
Will Frolic, mentioned in dialogue the sixth. 

Previous to the final settlement of these marriages, 
it was thought necessary that the old people should 
meet together, to arrange the family concerns of 
each party. As it would, on the one hand, be very 
wrong in me to divulge these family secrets ; so, on 
the other, it would by no means prove an interesting 
subject to the reader. Suffice it to say, the meeting 
took place at Mr. Considerate's, Mr. Lovegood, ibr 
the sake of his wise advice, being one of the pjirty ; 
and in the evening of the day the conversation took 
the following turn : 

Farmer. Weil, Mr. Considerate, I tells my son 
Harry he is in high luck to have your daughter : the 
Lord keep him humble ! 



325 

Consid. A difference of a few pounds, as it re- 
spects money matters, is of very little consequence 
either one way or the other, where the best principle 
for happiness is solidly established by the blessing of 
the grace of God upon the heart. 

Loveg. All our happiness between each other rests 
upon veiy slippery ground, independent of the grace 
of God. Even the common social and relative duties 
of life, which so plainly recommend themselves to 
every rpan's judgment and conscience, will be ill 
practised where this divine principle is wanting. 

Fanner. Aye, aye, so we found it in our house, 
till we found the grace of God in our hearts. And if 
dear Harry makes as good a husband as he has been 
dutiful and loving to me as a son, since he has been 
blessed with this precious grace, I have no doubt, 
though he is but a farmer's son, that they will be 
main happy wiih each other. 

Consid. Why, Mr. Littleworth, your son has his 
share of good sense, and you gave him a good edu- 
cation, and God has given him the blessing of his 
grace, and my daughter is an excellent child : I have 
no doubt, therefore, if God preserves their lives, but 
that they will be a happy pair. 

Farmer. Ah ! my poor daughter Patty, she will 
never be so happy with that wild young blade, Will 
Frolic, and she is quite bent upon having him.— 
Poor girl, I cannot help it ; if she will please her 
fancy, I fear she will plague her heart. 

Loveg. Why, Mr. Littleworth, under these cir- 
cumstances, things must be permitted to take their 
course. When children grow beyond our restraint, 
oftentimes opposition answers no other end than to 
rivet them in their purposes. You can go no further 
than to act a parent's part, and commit them to God. 

Farmer. Yes, yes, sir, I shan't mind giving her 
a child's portion ; I can afford it without injuring the 



326 

rest of my children, for the Lord has wonderfully 
blessed me of late : But I am afraid that spark is more 
fond of the money than of my daughter, though, at 
times, he appears desperate loving. He took it as a 
hard gripe upon him, when I would have the money 
settled upon my daughter and her children, especi- 
ally when I did not think it necessary to bind up 
Billy Traffic in the same way, in his marriage with 
my daughter Nancy : but why should I ? for Billy is 
a very sober, regular, good young man ; but as for 
Will Frolic, if I had not bound him up pretty tight) 
he would soon have made ducks and drakes of all the 
money. 

Cons id. Your determination had almost been the 
cause of breaking the match. 

Farmer. Why that was the upshot of the design. 
Harry, dear child, said, that womd be the best way to 
settle matters, though he w r as once sq wicked him- 
self ; but when his old miserly uncle, Mr. Stingey, 
the tallow-chandler, said he would give a bond to his 
nephew of two hundred pounds more to be paid a iter 
his death, provided it was all secured to my daughter 
and her children, that brought on the match again ; 
and though they now appear so loving, I am sadly 
afraid they will soon live like cat and dog. 

Lovcg. I should not wonder at it ; ior there is no 
real Foundation for love, but in the love of God. 
That foolish fondness, which some people discover 
towards each other, very frequently degenerates into 
complete disgust. 

Farmer. It is to admiration how I used to remark 
what a different way of courting my Harry and Billy 
Traffic had to Will Frolic. Whenever Billy came 
to my house to see Nancy, he would behave so de- 
cent and orderly, that it was quite a comfort to see 
them together. And whenever your daughter visit- 
ed us, we always found she never would come with- 



sir 

out Madam Considerate or yourself; and what nice 
profitable talk we always had ? But when that wild 
blade would come to see Patty, he would act as if he 
was half mad. Neither I nor Harry could keep him 
in any tolerable order: and I never could get rid of* 
him, till I called the servants in for family prayer, 
and then he would be off like a pistol. — Poor girl, I 
am desperately afraid that the match will be her ruin- 
ation. 

Consid. I am sorry to hear that he is such a sad 
wild fellow ; and I am told also that he is very in- 
sulting in his conversation. 

Farmer. Why, he never could keep his tongue in 
any sort of order when at my house; what an uproar 
he made one night, when he told ray daughter Polly 
that she would never be married because she had lost 
two of her fore teeth, and then she was all in a pas- 
sion — She is so full of envy that her younger sisters 
Patty and Nancy should be married before her. 

Consid. ( Smiling. ) Perhaps if the loss had been on 
the tongue iiibtead of the teeth, it might have been 
a less calamity. 

Fanner. Ah, poor Polly, even from her cradle she 
was a sad crabbed child, and I think she is crosser 
than ever, since she has taken to spend so much of 
her time at Madam Toogood's ; and then she comes 
home as brim full of scandal as ever she can hold ; 
but still she is my child — The Lord make her his 
child ! 

Consid. Well, I am glad, Mr. Littleworth, my 
daughter's visits were so acceptable at your house. I 
can assure you, Mr. Henry's visits were not less so 
at ours. His conversation at ail times was much to 
the purpose, and instead of being driven away on ac- 
count of prater, he would oiten stop and be our 
family chaplain ; and mueh to the edification of us 
all. 



i 



328 

Farmer. Aye, aye, dear child, and he prays so 
htutibiy, and ^o much from the heart; I am sure it 
dues my heart 'good to heir him. And then, as soon 
as ever he has done the business of the farm, away 
he goes after some of his good books; raid directly as 
he has saved a little money, he is sure to go and buy 
some fresh ones : but he is extravagant in nothing 
else, dear child ! 

Loveg. Really , Mr. Little worth, it appears to me, 
that the grace of God- mends the head, as well as 
converts the heart. It brings the mind into such a 
sober, holy, regular frame, we can know nothing 
of the good of our own existence till we exist in 

CxGu. 

Farmer. Why, now it appears just so to me, as 
though I had been ah my days without brains, while 
I was living without grace. But blessed be God, 
: nice winter qyer^ngs we now spend at cur 
e, when Harry sits and reads, and talks to us 
out of some pi his good books. And then he gets 
Billy Traffic and some other young people to come 
and see him. At times we have quite a little con- 
grv.gation, and then we have such sweet singling and 
prayers ; but as for my part, I never could sing, but 
I does my best to " make a joyful noise unto the 
Lord." 

Consid. You can't think me to blame, Mr. Little- 
Worth, while 1 give my free consent that my daughter 
should many such an excellent young man. 

Farmer. To be sure, sir, I cannot but be very 
thankful for the merciful providence of God, that has 
contrived such a charming match for my child. Lit- 
tle did I ihiiik when he wa ked wild sailor* that| 
he would ever be married 10 a gentleman's daugh- 
ter, who has been twice .mayor of MapieXoa — The| 
Lord keep him from pride ! 



329 

ConsicL There is no great honour in being Mayor 
of Mapleton, Mr. Littleworth, 

Farmer. Why, Mr. Strut, the present Mayor, 
don't think so ; he fancies he has a right to act as 
though he were a little god. How he struts about 
our town, like a crow in a gutter. To my mind he 
thinks himself as great a man as King George the 
Third, — God bless him ! 

Loveg. I hope, Mr. Littleworth, your son has too 
much good sense and grace to be proud. Pride is 
nothing better than the offspring of folly, and the 
disease of fools ; and pride turns all things into con- 
fusion. When proud people meet together, they 
never can be happy. 

Farmer. Why Harry, dear child ! makes us all 
happy; and Nancy is a sweet, humble, diligent girl. 
And she is so notable and attentive to her mother. 
My dame sees what it is that makes the best child. 
She begins to think of coming to Brookfield church 
oftener than she used to do. I hope to the Lord she 
feels more in her heart than she likes to express, for 
she is ashamed to say much, as she cannot forget how 
she thwarted us, when we began to think about the 
salvation of our souls. But the Lord be praised ! 
she is wonderfully altered. 

Loveg. Indeed, sir, I think she is. Nothing can 
please her better than the intended marriages of her 
son and daughter ; while she is so much concerned 
at the union designed between Will Frolic and Miss 
Patty. But it seems that several bad matches have 
taken place in Mapleton and its neighbourhood of 
late ; I am surprized, however, if in this world we 
are to be surprized at any thing, that good tempered, 
humble, young woman, Rachel Meek, the- linen- 
draper's daughter, should have consented to marry 
that strange' dogmatic young chap, Jack Positive the 
lawyer. 

Vol. II. Ff 



330 

Co?7sicl. Ah, sir ! love is blind ; I believe the un- 
happy young woman heartily repents of it. If ever 
she presumes to give her advice, she is snapt at di- 
rectly. — He will say, " Madam, when I need your 
advice, I'll ask it — till then, I shall act as 1 like 
best." 

Loveg. What must one of her humble and tender 
mind ^ei, under treatment so contemptuous and 
cruel ? 

Consid. Sir, he will do worse than all this. If the 
poor innocent creature asks a question; his answer 
will be, " I shall do as I like best." If he should 
venture upon any wrong or wild pursuits, as obsti- 
nacy frequently misguides him, and she begins with 
ever so much meekness to expostulate, his answer 
will be, " I shan't be guided by a woman." Then, 
lest she should further provoke him, she very wisely 
keeps silent, only now and then drops a tear. 

Farmer. Poor dear creature, she must have a dog^s 
life of it. 

Consid. I dare say a much worse life than your 
dog leads ; for whatever he commands must be ob- 
served, be it ever so absurd : and when he has burnt 
his fingers by his own folly, he will blame her that 
she did not consult with him ; while he appears so 
little to respect her judgment, as not to allow her 
to go to market to provide for the family, but 
under his orders and directions* 

Loveg. Better to be a beast of burden than the 
wife oi such a man. If " wives are to be in subjec- 
tion," yet they are not doomed to be the abject 
slaves of such abominable tyrants. But her lather, 
it seems, was always against the match. 

Farmer. Ah, fathers can't, at all times, get their 
children to follow their advice; we are a stiff-necked 
generation ; but to my mind that was another strange 
match on the contrary side of the question, when my 



331 

poor taylor, Simon Simple, married Fanny Pert the 
milliner, for though he makes the breeches, yet all 
the folk say she is determined to wear them. 

Traffic. Why he has been the taylor for our family 
for some time, and while he does not want for a share 
of good sense, yet being of a meek and harmless 
disposition, he has unfortunately given the rod out 
of his own hands, and then she flogs him well for 
his folly. When my son Billy once went to their 
house about a job, he tells a strange story on his re- 
turn. 

Consid. What was it, sir ? 

Traffic. Why, the door being a little a-jar he heard 
her cry, " Simon, why, Simon; what are you at: 
why don't you come down directly ? Young Mr- 
Traffic is here ; I shan't stand bawling after you all 
day." And when he gave her to understand that he 
had overheard her coarse wav of talk to her husband, 
she blushed, and said " she did not mean to scold 
him, and that it was only the tone of her voice that 
made him think so, and that they lived very happy 
together. " 

Consid. Happy ! how can he be happy while she 
is dinning his 'ears all -the day with her impertinent 
and noisy talk, and with her insulting reflections ? I 
believe that all his happiness consists in patiently su£* 
fering himself to be hen-pecked whensoever she 
pleases, without saying a word on his own behalf. 

Far. There is another ''match nearly of the same 
sort, which is quite as bad. You know a Mr. Pla- 
cid that married Miss Fury. By ail accounts what 
a life she leads the poor gentleman ! I am told, there 
is not a bigger termagant in the town. 

Consid. I know the unfortunate man very well. 
If ever he thwarts her, directly she is the downright 
tiger — She hears not a word of reason, but falls into 
a terrible passion, and then cries out of mad- re- 
venge. 



332 

Traffic. What can he do with such a creature ? 

Consid. Why, he puts her in good humour again 
as soon as he can; and, in order to keep a little 
peace, he is obliged to submit to all her whims and 
projects, and let her have her own way in every 
thing. — And all that won't do. 

Par. Why, to my mind, she must be worse than 
the devil, for there is an old proverb, " The devil is 
good natured when he is pleas.ed." 

Consid. But it ha difficult matter to say when she 
is pleased : for if her husband dares not contradict 
her, yet she supposes herself at all times at liberty to 
contradict him. It has oftentimes grieved me to 
hear how rude and snappish she is to him upon every 
turn, and yet she won't suffer any one else to scold 
him but herself. Once on an occasion of this sort, he 
said, " My dear, I should not care if all the world 
scolded me, provided you did not scold me your- 
self.'*' 

Traffic. I'll warrant she gave him a good sharp 
curtain lecture for that speech. 

ConskL No doubt of it. But this is not all of poor 
Mr. Placid's misery. She is such a horrid tormentor 
of her servants, hunting and driving them about like 
a mad woman ; if there are any servants he likes, 
she is sure to dislike them, and to drive them out of 
the house as fast as she can. She says, if women 
won't keep up their authority, it is their own fault. 

Loveg. It is a terrible evil when poor servants are 
to have their lives made a burden to themselves by 
such tyrannic usage. It is to be lamented, that such 
masters and mistresses were not made to serve 
also under the hard hand of oppression. There is 
not only a deal of ungodly cruelty', but a consider- 
able degree of cowardly meanness, exemplified by the 
conduct of these petty tyrants. But white some 
ch£s about these parts have been terribly calami- 






333 

tons, others of them have been as singularly ridicu- 
lous. 

Traffic. I suppose, sir, you allude to that strange 
match which took place the other day, between Miss 
Sally Chatterbox, and old Mr. .Taciturnity. 

Lovcg. Oh, that was a strange business — They say, 
the sedate old man is so grave, that he won't speak 
till he has been spoken to, two or three times, while 
her tongue is-never at rest. 

Consid. It seems she is good tempered, but the 
greatest chatterer that ever lived ; and runs on with 
such egregious stuff (for people who talk much fre- 
quently talk nonsense) that she often puts the poor 
old man sadly to the blush. 

Traffic. I wonder how the old gentleman can 
answer half her questions. 

Consid I am told she does not ask so many ques- 
tions, but keeps on with a strait-forward rattle ; and 
the few questions she asks, the old man evades as 
well as he can. He hums and haws : and now and 
then cries, " Yes, my dear, 5 ' and then " No, my 
dear ;" and then again, " I can't answer you, you 
speak so fast." And when his patience is nearly ex- 
hausted, he'll cry, " My dear, you talk so fast that 
it quite makes my head ache." 

Loveg. What is supposed to be the difference be- 
tween their age ? 

Consid. Why, Miss was about twenty-five, and the 
old gentleman about sixty-five, and it seems this 
young lady is his third wife. He is a very good sort 
of an old gentleman, and has a considerable deal of 
money, while the young lady has little or none, only 
she had, as it is called, a very polite education at a 
boarding school ; where, I suppose, she was taught 
to talk at this extraordinary rate. — But did you 
never hear what a sad mistake took place, wten the 
old gentleman was on a journey, about a fortnight 

Ef'2 



after their marriage, with his new wife and his son 
by his first wife, to pay a visit to some distant 
friends ? 

JLovcg. The story is quite new to me. 

ConsicL Sir, report says, that when they came to 
the inn where they were to rest for the eyening, the 
old gentleman and his son retired to sleep somewhat 
sooner than the bride, she being engaged to write 
some letters to her friends on this happy event. 
When she called for the chambermaid, she unhappi- 
ly turned her into the chamber of the old gentle- 
man's son. The young man finding that a young 
woman was beginning to undress by his bed side, 
and not immediately recollecting her, cried out 
against her as an impudent strumpet ; and told her 
to get out of the room, or he would kick her down 
stairs. Directly she made her escape, called for the 
chambermaid, told her what a mistake she had made, 
and asked where the other gentleman was gone to 
bed ; the maid answered, " Why ma'am, there is no 
other strange gentleman gone to bed in this house, 
but your grand papa." 

Loveg. What blunders are produced by these im- 
prudent matches ! But how came Mrs. Liberal to 
put up with Mr. Scraper for her second husband ? 

Traffic. By all accounts there is sad quarrelling 
between them already. While she will always have 
her table covered with sufficient provision, that 
a plenty may be left in the pantry for occasional 
visitants, he will be hunting after bits and scraps, 
supposing that almost any thing will do to mess up 
for a dinner. And as about food, so he is about rai- 
ment. He would appear like an old broken trades- 
man out of a workhouse, with his tattered clothes 
and darned stockings, if his wife would let him ; 
and when she only gave away some of his old clothes 
the other day, that had got into this trim, to a poor 



335 

old neighbour, this so offended him that he would 
not speak to her for near a fortnight. 

Loveg. Does not he want her to dress as shabby 
as himself? 

Consid. O yes, Sir ; and he is always telling her 
where the cheapest old remnants are to be bought ; 
and that she leaves off her clothes too soon, when, she 
might scour and dye, and then turn them, and thus 
wear them over and over again. 

Loveg. This must make sad jarrings between 
them : what strange confusion is created in the 
world by the contests which exist between the dif- 
ferent corruptions of the human heart ! 

Consid. Yes, and when people are united, who 
are under the influence of the same sort of corrup- 
tions, the evil will be abundantly worse. What a 
terrible misfortune it was to Mr. Sharp and Miss 
Trimmer, that ever they should make a match of it ! 

Traffic. Ah ! that poor girl was ruined from her 
childhood. Her foolish mother humoured her on 
every occasion ; and though her temper was natural- 
ly bad, yet her mother has made it ten thousand 
times worse, by puffing up the pride of her heart, in 
telling her she was a girl of fortune : and yet at first" 
they appeared fond of each other, though such love 
scarcely deserves the name. 

Consid. W hatever love might have been between 
them, 'tis all hatred now. While he tries to thwart 
and contradict her upon every occasion, she flies at 
him in return like a fury, ...calling him fool, puppy, 
and tells him he would have been a beggar if it had 
not been for her fortune : though his business, as a 
large vinegar merchant, is quite equal to the trifling 
sum he may have received with her. 

Farmer. But I'll warrant she pays him home a- 
gain, and gives him tit for tat. I remember she came 
once to our house to see my daughter Polly, so dress- 



336 

edupin her furbelows andfal-lals, and I thought her 
tongue run desperate glib. I have a notion she is a 
sad saucy puss. 

Consul. Her husband, however, it seems, can 
match her in language and insolence. M Hold your 
tongue, you insolent jade." — " Madam, I will be mas- 
ter; n and sometimes the house is all of an uproar 
between them. Of late, it seems, she has been very 
jealous of him, and trims him well on that score. 

Loveg. Oh, the terrible consequences of sin ! 
What a variety of little hells are created in hearts, 
and in families, and throughout all the world by its 
horrid existence ! Lord, what is man ! who can 
deny the fall? 

Consid. True, dear sir, and I think there is ano- 
ther union in our town, which perfectly proves the 
same awful truth. It evidently appears to me, that 
it is almost as necessary to prove that a man is to 
die, as that he is a fallen creature. 

Loveg. To what other matches do you refer ? 

Consid. Oh, sir, it was that unhappy union be- 
tween Miss Jemima Meek, and Mr. Lofty, who is a 
great man in his own esteem, because his great 
grand- mother was the daughter of some lord, who 
lived in the reign of Charles the Second ; and on 
this account, though he is almost a beggar in his cir- 
cumstances, he can strut about with such conse- 
quence ! — 

Loveg. What silly thoughts can feed that carrion 
bird of pride, when roosted during the night time of 
our ignorance in the unregenerate heart of man ! 
But who is this Mr. Lofty? 

Consid. He is the gingerbread-baker, that lives in 
Pride Alley. 

Loveg. Oh, that is the shop, I suppose, where Mrs, 
Considerate is so kind as to buy her fine golden 
kings and queens, as presents to my little children. 



337 

Consid. Yes, sir, and while he is selling these fine 
golden things for a farthing a-piece, he is feeding 
upon the conceit of his ancient noble blood. Be* 
sides, he fancies himself a man of reading and great 
knowledge. — He is one of Dr. Dronish's hearers. 

Loveg. Well, this beggarly pride is the worst of 
pride. But how does he treat the poor young 
woman ? 

Consid Why, in language like this. If she asks 
a question, he answers, " Child, I'll tell you by and 
by." If she humbly repeats it, u Child, don't be 
troublesome :" if she ventures to speak in company, 
" Child, don't expose yourself;" or " How should 
you know, child ?" If she proposes to do any thing, 
his answer is, " Child, I shall think of it." If he 
w 7 ants her to do any thing it is, " Child do this," or 
" Child do that;" in short, he scarcely treats her 
with the respect due to an upper servant. 

Farmer. Old Betty Bustle, who has lived in our 
house these five and fwenty years, would run away 
from us, if I and my dame were to talk to her as 
Master Lofty, the gingerbread baker, talks to that 
poor creature. — Well, the Lord be praised, that he 
has a little humbled my proud nature ; but to my 
mind, I had once such noble blood in my heart, while 
I was living without God in the world, and while I 
was blustering with my big looks about the market. 



But now for an abridgement of the subject. It was 
during the same evening's conversation much la- 
mented, that Mr. Lion should have been married to 
Miss Pigeon, who treated her with an abundance of 
austerity, though it caused some laughter when they 
conversed about the marriage of Mr. Blunt to Miss 
Prudish ; while the plainness and simplicity of the 



one were contrasted with the unmeaning affectation 
of the other; though it was a much less laughable 
concern when Mr. Smart, who was all vivacity and 
wit, married Betty Dull ; and no wonder that soon 
after their marriage he treated her with sad neglect. 

A counterpart of the same sort of unhappy matches 
took place between Mr. Consequence and Miss No- 
body, who never could find out her stupidity till 
aftbr he had married her. and then treated her with 
cruel contempt. 

After this, Mr. Lovegood had to improve the sub- 
ject. He very wisely remarked, that our infinitely 
merciful God had so regulated the government of 
the human race, as that they should be helpmates to 
each other, that thereby a bond of general union 
might be created for the good of the whole. That 
the poor, though in servitude, should find guardians 
and supporters in the rich, who have it in their 
power to make even their situation a blessing to 
them, by their merciful and kind deportment to- 
wards them. That parental authority was most mer- 
ciful ly instituted according to the laws of nature, so 
that die care needed by children, and the respect 
and honour due to parents arising therefrom, might 
create a bond of union between ktmiiies through life. 
And that the foundation* of this originated in the 
marriage contract which civilized nations had uni- 
versally adopted, and which, when broken, rendered 
mankind a set of barbarians and brutes. 

He next observed, all duties of this sort were re- 
ciprocal. Masters are to command with mercy ; 
while servants are to submit and perform their ofiice 
with fidelity. Parents arc to educate with the ten- 
derest affection ; children are to obey with the purest 
simplicity and love. So as it respects the marriage 
union. — Minds differ. It was certainly determined 
that the wife should submit and obev ; she was " the 



339 

first in transgression: 5 ' but then the husband's duty 
is not the less to " love, cherish, and respect her," 
as " the weaker vessel." And while the divine mind 
has determined that she should be in subjection, yet 
such husbands as are blessed with die mind of Christ 
will remember, that they are directed to " love their 
wives as Christ also loved the church, and gave him- 
self for it, that he might sanctify and cleanse it by 
the washing of water by the word. For that no 
man ever yet hated his own flesh, but nourisheth 
it and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the church." 

Next this excellent moralist on evangelical prin- 
ciples, asked the question : Will such christians act 
as tyrannic lords over their wives, because it is said 
" the man was not created for the woman, but the 
woman for the man;" that " the man is the image 
and glory of God, but the woman is the glory of the 
man?" 

I once knew a pretended boaster of religion, who 
was ever quoting against his poor wife, that " the hus- 
band was the head of the wife,' even as Christ is the 
head of the church," and that " as the church is sub- 
ject unto Christ, so wives are to be subject to their 
own husbands in all things :" and Oh, how he used 
to bore the poor woman on these words, " in all 
things !" But let all these jarring strings be reduced 
into holy harmony and order, and let the wife learn, 
as the scripture has directed her, " to reverence her 
husband;" and let her distinguished ornament be 
that " of a meek and quiet spirit, which in the sight 
of God is of great price ;" and in that happy union 
each of them will find their paradise regained. 

Mr, Lovegood, at the same time, gave it as his 
opinion, that nothing was more beneficial to the 
good of society than that young persons, blessed with 
the fear of God, should thus unite themselves to 
each other on an early day. That it was the duty 



of parents not wantonly to thwart, though to regu- 
late, the inclinations of their children, and that also 
in the mildest manner, as circumstances might re- 
quire. But that, from the instances which had been 
before them in conversation, a similarity of dispo- 
sition above all things should be first sought for, yqt 
not with rigid exactness. A good man may be over- 
generous : can he do better for himself than to seek 
for a partner who is frugal and attentive, without 
being covetous and mean ? Should another be hasty 
and rapid ; what can he do better than to unite him- 
self to one who is dispassionate and calm ? And if the 
young woman has an unhappy tendency to that 
which may be frivolous and indiscreet, who knows 
but that she may be much corrected, should she meet 
with the man who mav be cautious and reserved ? 
In short, that it is not so much the dispositions them- 
selves as their evil tendency, through the corruption 
of mankind, against which we should be put upon 
our guard ; as it was evidently not the disposition it- 
self, but that disposition, being under a corrupted 
influence, which was the cause of every calamity that 
had been the subject of their present conversation. 

Mr. Lovegood also mentioned, that a little equa- 
lity, as it respected money matters, might not bean 
improper consideration, as this too often creates the 
most unpleasant reflections and disputes. And last 
of all, as being ultimately of the least consequence, 
respecting age, he observed, though many inconve- 
niences from that quarter arise from such inconsi- 
derate unions, yet that it was beyond a doubt, a 
variety of old and young fools, at least somewhat 
like it, good-natured creatures, have lived very hap- 
py with each other. 

Mr. Lovegood lastly urged some very impressive 
id :• s respectiiig the sad perturbation of mind, cre- 
ated among all those ok every rank, whose tempers 



341 

were completely contrary to the holy mind of Christ. 
That even heaven itself would bear a semblance of 
hell, could such minds surround the holy throne 
above : perfect holiness and infinite happiness are 
inseparably united. 

Thus Mr. Lovegood went on well. So also my 
young readers would determine, had I time further 
to transcribe his wise and good advice ; for their 
sakes so much is presented before them on this 
most important subject. There is something very 
engaging in the undisguised simplicity of unpolluted 
youth. Oh, that my dear young friends had the ad- 
vice of a Lovegood always sounding in their ears ; 
and the like grace, which is the delightful theme of ■ 
his preaching, constantly dwelling in their hearts ! 
Such will not only be graciously protected from 
the evils of life, but as mercifully directed into every 
path that is wise and good. And under such regu- 
lations, how happy shall I be without fee or reward, 
so far as I can gain the permission of the Dolittles of 
the day, (while a denial from theLovegoods is scarce- 
ly to be apprehended,) to tie the bond of union that 
makes the parties so happy in each other. 



The kind public, it seems, have been frequently 
inquisitive to know when the concluding dialogue 
would be laid before them. It will, however, appear 
that events could not -be related till time had brought 
them into existence ; there were several marriages to 
be brought forward : but wise people know better 
than to " marry in haste, lest they should have to 
repent at leisure. 5 ' 

The writer also had some further designs to have 
exposed the folly of those professors of Christianity, 
who are still living in conformity to the world. lie 

Vol. II. G g 



342 

had once likewise thought to have entered more se- 
riously into the subject of divine influences, so as to 
guard that holy doctrine from the ridiculous inter- 
pretation of the enthusiast ; and yet to vindicate the 
same divine truth from the infidel objections of the 
empty speculatist of the day ; but as, upon recollec- 
tion, these subjects have been so much interwoven 
with the dialogues at large, and finding that the pub- 
lication has already swollen far beyond the original 
design, it was determined that a further investigation 
of these : ubjects might too much clog the work, 
which had brevity for its main design. 

Nor yet would the reader have had the melancholy 
subject of the invaluable Mr. Merryman's death, 
for the closing dialogue, had it not brightened before 
it concluded with the happy prospect, that a mini- 
ster, like minded with'Mr. Merry man, will still be 
established at Sandover, 



343 



DIALOGUE XXXV. 



*4t* 



BETWEEN MR. HONEST AND FAMILY, SHOP- 
KEEPERS IN SANDOVER, MR. AND AIRS. RHY- 
MER OF THE SAME PLACE; AND MR. INQUI- 
SITIVE, A MANCHESTER RIDER. 



SAD TIDINGS FROM SANDOVER, OCCASIONED BY THE 
DEATH OF MR. MERRYMAN. 

AFTER the necessary orders of the shop were 
settled, Mr. Inquisitve requested Mr. Honest 
would come and take a supper with him at the inn ; 
but as that house was ill conducted, being patroni- 
zed by 'Squire Wild, in opposition to Mr. Merry- 
man, Mr. Honest excused himself, and requested that 
Mr. Inquisitive would rather come and take a cup 
of tea with him ; and, as that would best suit his 
family engagements, the invitation was accordingly 
accepted. 

Mr. Inquis. How do you do, sir ? I am come ac- 
cording to appointment, but I aift sorry to sec your- 
self and so many of your friends all in mourning ; I 
am afraid there has been a sad mortality in the 
place. 

Mr. Hon. Oh, no sir, we are all pretty well ; but 
we are in deep mourning indeed for our minister, 
who was buried about a fortnight ago. 

Inquis. What, is it the custom about these parts 
for people to go into mourning for their ministers? I 
never heard of such a custom in other places. 



344 

Hon. Perhaps not, sir; but out of respect to one 
we ; I c mired and loved, the whole parish almost, 
that could afford it, have thought proper to put on 
mourning. To be sure, he was one of the best 
young men that ever lived upon the earth. 

Inquis. Well, I could not have thought that you 
should all distress yourselves so much on that score ; 
no doubt but that you will soon get another clergy- 
man in his place. 

Hon. O yes, sir, we are sure to have a minister, 
while he is to have the tithes ; but it is not every 
minister who will suit us after that most excellent 
creature, who is now no more. 

Inquis. Oh, but you should all keep up your spi- 
rits, though I confess too many of the clergy are no 
better than they should be, yet others of them are 
very moral and sober; and perhaps the minister who 
succeeds him, may be a virtuous man also, and mind 
his duty, as well as the good gentleman you have 
lately lost. 

Hon. Ah, sir, but we shall think ourselves ill 
suited, if we have one who has nothing further than 
the decency of a moral Heathen : we want the man 
who is blessed with the spirituality of the real Chris- 
tian, and who, consequently, is given up to the love 
and service of God ; and who wishes " to spend and 
be spent for Jesus Christ." 

Inquis. Why, sir, the people in our parts are sel- 
dom so strict about their ministers. 

Robert, the son of Mr. Honest Such a minister as 
we have lost, may not be esteemed as a loss among 
those who have never felt the worth of religion on 
their own hearts ; I am sure it was so with me. Till 
it pleased God to convert our late minister, I lived 
an unconverted Heathen myself; my father knows, 
to his cost, what a wretched turn of mind I was 
^kelv to take. 



4 345 

Inquis. Converted ! Was it possible that he could 
be a clergyman and not a Christian? and I thought 
you and your whole family were all bred up. in the 
same religion. 

Hon. He was a fine Christian truly ; nothing bet- 
ter than a sort of a good natured madman, running 
after all kinds of nonsense and fooleries ; making the 
parish, if possible, ten times worse than he found it. 
If his head did not want to be converted to Chris- 
tianity, I am sure his heart stood in sad need of be- 
ing converted from its wickedness ; and it is poor 
work to talk of Christianity, while many of us are as 
bad as Heathens, and others even worse. 

Inquis. Oh, that is what you mean by conversion. 
I thought you meant he had changed his religion ; 
but I confess yours is a better notion of conversion 
than mine. 

Hon. But how can people who have no religion, 
change their religion ? I never thought that either 
my son or our minister had any religion, when both 
of them were half mad for th6 want of it. 

Inquis. Really, sir, what you say seems to interest 
me so much, that I should like to hear some further 
particulars about the young minister, whose death is 
so, universally lamented. I cannot account for the 
difference ; but, from my childhood I have been in- 
quisitive after truth. I once read the history of all 
religions, till I was quite tired of reading about their 
nonsensical ceremonies and forms ; religion must be 
something better than all that. 

Hon. Oh, sir, had you known that invaluable 
young minister, you would have perceived that there 
is a difference when- the grace of God takes possession 
of the heart ; and in him the difference was so truly 
great and glorious, that it was to the admiration and 
astonishment of all. The last minister we had, who 
was only sent to die among; us, old Mr. Mumble, 

Gg 2 



lived like a stupid log ; and when he died, though 
the form was huddled over him, yet there was such 
a degree of indifference among all who attended, 
that it appeared to me as though he was " buried 
with the burial of an ass." 

Inquis. Then it seems you had no great loss of 
him. 

Hon. He was a mere piece of church lumber. But 
oh, what a difference took place in the parish, as soon 
as Mr. Merryman became a Christian indeed ! 

Inquis, How long has he been your minister ? 

Hon. About seven years. And at first when he 
came into the parish, I thought he Mould have made 
my son as wild and giddy as himself. 

Rob. According to all human probability he would 
have ruined me, if God, by his grace and mercy, 
had not saved him ; though it was not two years after 
he first came, before he proved himself to be an al- 
tered man indeed. And it struck me, when he would 
be seriously dissuading me against those very evils 
which had been all his delight, that such a won- 
der ful change could never be accomplished but by 
God alone. 

Inquis. I never thought about religion in this way 
before ; I should like to hear more of your minister, 
and how he went on. 

Rob. Dear man ! as soon as he saw the evil of his 
ways, he would get up in the pulpit and weep over 
us, on account of the bad example he had set before 
us ; and pray and beseech us in such a tender and 
affectionate manner, that he won all our hearts be- 
fore w r e well knew where we were. 

Hon. (To his son.) Ah ! my dear child, I have as 
much reason to bless God for him as yourself; for 
though I have been kept from being wild and wicked, 
and have been just in my dealings between man 
and man, yet till it pleased God to convert dear Mr. 



34r 

Merryman to the Christianity of the Bible, I was as 
ignorant of the grace and power of real religion as a 
mere Heathen. 

Inquis. Well, it is a great blessing that your minis- 
ter could persuade you to reform. 

Rob. I have no reason to believe, that the reforma- 
tion of my manners would ever have taken place, if 
it had not been for the renewal of my heart. But 
of that doctrine I fear the generality of us were en- 
tirely ignorant, till the meaning of it had been ex- 
emplified to us, by the life and preaching of dear 
Mr. Merryman. Oh, how he would stand and ex- 
hort us, and persuade .and intreatus, with ail ferven- 
cy of spirit, " yearning over us in the bowels of 
Jesus Christ," that we might be reconciled to God, 
and find for ourselves the power of that salvation, by 
which a change so gloi ious had been made upon his 
own heart ! But that most dear and precious servant 
of God is now no more ! [Poor Robert is quite over- 
come, and weeps abundantly, while all the family 
mingle with him their sympathetic tears.~\ 

Inquis. Well, I am very sorry for you all ; I don't 
wonder now, thai you put on mourning. 

Rob. As to myself, I have lost the sweetest com- 
panion I ever met with, and I suppose, ever shall in 
all my life ; though we were companions in the 
times of our ignorance, yet we never knew what the 
real sweets of friendship were, till after we were 
blessed with the grace of God in our hearts. 

Hon. My son and he were like two brothers. Oh, 
how it used to delight us to see him come into our 
house ! his disposition was so sweet, and all his ways 
were so engaging and kind. 

Rob. (To Mr. Inquisitive.) Yes, sir, I have known 
him in my life, I knew him in death ; and ever since 
he has had any thing which deserves the name of 
Christianity, both in and out of the pulpit, he was 
the Christian indeed, 



348 

Hon. I am sure I could not love a chilc^of my own 
better than I loved him. It is impossible to tell the 
good he has been the instrument of doing to our fa- 
mily, after he became an altered man : and what sweet 
and edifying seasons we have passed in this room,, 
where we now sit ! Either he would say something 
good to us out of the Bible, or read us some profit- 
able letters ; or select passages out of different good 
books ; or tell us some good news about others of his 
pai ishioners : nobody can tell how we feel the loss. 

Inqnis. It seems he was but a young man ; how 
came you to lose him ! 

Rob. Dear man ! while a putrid fever raged in the 
parish, he would go from house to house, and visit 
the most dangerous cases ; attend among the most 
abject of the poor with the greatest tenderness and 
leve; and thus he caught the disorder: and though 
he recovered of the fever, yet he died soon afterwards 
of a rapid decline. 

Hon. Our feelings have been all sharply exercised 
by this event; he lay near a month in his fever, 
while, for several days, we expected every hour to 
be informed, of his death. Oh, how our minds were 
racked between hope and fear, day after day. What 
a season of constant anxiety and suspence! And 
what a solemn gloom sat upon every countenance, 
while, evening after evening, our serious neighbours 
came into our house, to. pray for the preservation of 
his precious life ! 

Airs. Hon. I look upon it as a kind providence 
which preserved the life of our son, who was with 
him for a longer or a shorter time every day ; they 
were so fond of each other ! 

Rob. Well, mother, and I humbly trust those 
visits will be a blessing to me, to the latest moments 
of my life. But oh, what an affecting scene it was ! 
Poor Mrs. Merryman had scarcely lain in with her 



349 

first child a month, before she was called to nurse her 
husband, while she had to nurse her child also. There 
she would stand by his bed-side till her eyes began 
to float in tears; and then, from the agitation of her 
spirits, she would be obliged to retire. 

Inquis. It seems they were a very happy pair. 

Rob, Oh, sir, in their solid and affectionate regard 
and attention to each other, their conduct was the 
most exemplary that could be set before us. 

Inquis, Your hopes and fears must have been 
much more excited by the event of his first having 
a fever, from which he recovered, in a measure, than 
if he had been removed from you by a consumption 
only. 

Rob. A great deal ; but then he had an opportu- 
nity of exemplifying more true Christian patience 
and resignation; w T hereby he left such a testimony 
behind him, as I trust we never shall forget; he w:as 
so entirely resigned and given up to God. 

Inquis. I suppose he must have been a man of 
amazing fortitude. 

Rob. What is generally understood by fortitude, 
was not the principle by which he was supported ; 
it was the animating cordial of the love of God upon 
his heart, which so wonderfully upheld him in death : 
though he was mostly in a stupor while he was in 
his fever, yet what precious things, at intervals dropt 
from his lips ! at all times manifesting that his mind 
was kept in the most holy and submissive frame ! 
And what was very remarkable, while he lay in this 
stupor, he would sometimes speak as though he was 
engaged in preaching to his congregation; and at 
other times he seemed to suppose that he was pray- 
ing with them : and what he said on these occasions 
was astonishingly affecting and fine, even superior to 
what he ever said in the best days of his health. 

Hon. We may judge by this, while his bodily 



359 

frame lay under such a stupor, yet his heart and 
spirit were quite alive in the blessed work of his Lord 
and Master ; and at intervals he would be perfecdy 
recollected. 

Rob. But during one of these intervals, oh, how 
it affected me when visiting him a diy or two after, 
I found him quite low and in tears ; and when I ask- 
ed him what was the cause of it, he cried, " Oh, 
what would I give could I recai the time when, as 
a wicked and careless minister, both in my life and 
doctrine, I was the cause of the ruin and delusion 
of so many souls ! It was all my doing, that poor 
Bob Trifier w T as invited to the ball, whereby he 
caught the fever which carried him to the grave. 
Though I doubt not that God has forgiven me, yet 
I am ashamed to think how wicked I have been." 
And when I began mentioning the good he had 
done since he had been blessed with the grace of 
God, and mentioned myself as one that would have 
eternal reason to bless God for his ministry, he seem- 
ed to smile, took me by the hand, and said, " Yes, 
my dear Robert, and this is the only reason that 
makes me wish, to live, that I may bring more sin- 
ners to Jesus Christ." Then the gloom soon dispers- 
ed, while he in general lay happy and composed. 

Mrs. Hon. I shall never forget the night in which 
I sat up with him, for we all took it by turns to nurse 
the dear man, while many of us thought it would 
be the last night of his life, with what wonderful 
melody he broke forth and sang : 

" The goodly land I see, 

With peace and plenty blest, 
A land of sacred liberty and endless rest 5 

There milk and honey flow, 

There oil and wine abound, 
And trees of life for ever grow, 

With mercy crown'd. 



351 

** There dwells the Lord our King;, 

The Lord our righteousness, 
Triumphant o'er the world and sin: 

The Prince of Peace, 

On S ion's sacred height, 

His kingdom still maintains t 
And, glorious with his saints in light, 

For ever reigns. 1 ' 

While he thus lay, I thought I would not inter- 
rupt him. He soon broke out again, as though he 
had forgot himself, and then cried, " When will 
my dearest Saviour come?" and then he again 
sang with greater rapture still : 

" He by hfmself hath sworn, 

I on his oath depend ; 
I shall, on eagles' wings upborne, 

To heav'n ascend. 

I shall behold his face, 

I shall his pow'r adore ; 
And sing the wonders of his grace, 
For evermore." 

While he was thus singing,, I went up to his bed- 
side. He caught my eye, and said, " Oh, Mrs. Ho- 
nest, what made you pull me down? what made you 
pull me down ? I thought I was going up into glory, 
with thousands of singing spirits with me, and was 
singing with them ; and that somehow my soul was 
all full of singing and praise, for the redeeming love 
of Christ." Soon after this, he seemed to be going 
quite off, as he lay without recollection for several 
hours. During that time, the report was circulated 
that he was actually- dead ; and no one can tell the 
feelings of the people on the occasion. The next 
day, however, contrary to all expectation, he revi- 
ved ; and appeared, by slow degrees, to be upon 
the recovery. 

Hon. And he was so far recovered as to be able to 
attend the duties of the church for four Sabbaths. 
Oh, how delighted we all were to see him again. 



352 

though in great weakness, staggering abroad, for 
a little -air and exercise, in hopes that his strength 
would be fully restored. And when his father-in- 
law, Mr. Worthy, who had frequently been to see 
him, sent his chaise for his use, that he might enjoy 
the benefit of the air and moderate exercise ; how 
every body was blessing God to see him yet alive 
with us! he smiling again upon his affectionate 
friends and neighbours, while they beheld him as 
one risen from the dead. 

Rob. After this you know he and Mrs. Merry- 
man went and passed a week at Mr. Worthy's ; and 
upon his return he appeared somewhat recruited, 
though very weak ; and the Sundy after that he 
preached for the first time after his illness. Oh, 
what uncommon joy we all felt on that occasion, 
while every hand and heart war: lifted up in thank- 
fulness for the mercy \ For, though he was led up 
the aisle with much weakness, yet we lived in hopes 
that his health would be restored. What a sermon 
he gave us from these words, " My soul is even as 
a weaned child:" and in what an affectionate spirit 
he addressed us, while he told the feelings of his 
own mind during his sickness ; hoping that the so- 
lemn warning he had received might quicken his 
zeal, that he might be enabled with greater earnest- 
ness to entreat us, in Christ's stead, to be reconciled 
to God. In short, the affectionate spirit, in which 
he addressed us, was too much for himself and all 
his congregation. 

Hon. From that very sermon I thought there was 
too much of heaven in him to live long upon earth ; 
and, from the first, I had my forebodings, lest the 
cough, which interrupted him during the service, 
might settle on his lungs. 

Rob. Why, on the Sunday afterwards, he seemed 
to revive our hopes that he might recover, though 
his cough certainly continued. 



353 

Hon. But on the Sunday after that, you know, my 
dear, how much our fears were excited by the in- 
crease of his cough, and its terrible hollow sound, 
by which we were all again so universally alarmed ; 
our hopes now began to sink faster than they were 
formerly raised. 

Inquis. No wonder at it ; for you could have no 
hopes of his recovery from a consumption ; but it is 
a pity he did not take more care of himself, and ab- 
stain from preaching. 

Hon. Sir, it was his design to have lain by for the 
recovery of his health ; and Mr. Worthy had written 
to Mr. Brightman, an excellent young man, belong- 
ing to one of the Universities, to come and supply 
for him ; but as Mr. Brightman* could not come so 
soon as he was desired, especially as he could not get 
another acceptable supply, the dear man was deter- 
mined to attempt to preach on the Sunday follow- 
ing. 

Inquis. Surely he was too anxious to preach while 
in so weak a state. x 

Mob. Sir, his anxiety to preach was so strong, that 
there was no keeping him out of the pulpit ; all the 
time he was ill, his desire to return again to his 
delightful work was ardent and perpetual. But, 
alas ! the following Sunday was the last we ever en- 
joyed with him. 

Inquis. Could you have foreseen that this would 
have been his last sermon, it would have rendered 
it a most affecting sermon indeed. 

Hon. Oh, sir, as we knew he meant to remove to 
Brookfield for the recovery of his health, we had our 
strong forebodings that it would be the last time we 
ever should see him in the pulpit; and the church 

* This Mr. Brightman is a very near relation to the Mr. Brightman 
mentioned in Dialogue IV th. 

Vol. II. H h 



i 



354 

■ 

was so crowded — I never saw such a scene in all my 
life ! — {He is too much affected to continue.) 

Rob. And after Mr. Sedate, Dr. Orderly's curate, 
had read prayers, (for both the good doctor and his 
curate Mere remarkably attentive to our dear minis- 
ter, during his illness,) he got up to preach, and his 
appearance alarmed us more than ever. What a 
text he took, and how we were all struck at his de- 
livery of it ! 

Inquis. What was the text ? 

Mob. <k Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither 
have entered into the heart of man, the things which 
God hath prepared for them that love him." How 
he described the glories of the eternal ^Vorld, our 
perfect deliverance from sin, and our everlasting en- 
joyment of God! with what rapture he mentioned 
those words, in thy presence is fulness of joy, and at 
thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore! 
how he begged and intreated us as for his life to ac- 
cept these unutterable joys, and to fly from the 
wrath to come, as it was, probably, the last ex- 
hortation we might ever receive from his lips, that 
might so soon be closed in death. His very soul was 
so deeply engaged in the subject, that he could not 
speak without a tear, while the hearts of all the peo- 
ple were melted down as the heart of one man. The 
dear man had not addressed us above fifteen minutes, 
when he was so overcome by his own feelings, and 
the heat of the church, through the excessive crowd, 
that he quite fainted away. What a scene we saw 
when he was earned from that pulpit, from v. hence 
we had received such an abundance of good ! I be- 
lieve this astonishing young spiritual Sampson slew 
more by these his loving strokes at his death, than 
ever he sitw throughout all his life ; but his poor body 
fell undei these exertions. 

Hon. 1 rather thought from the first that it was a 



confirmed consumption. You know he never stood 
long in the pulpit; not above half his usual time: 
nor yet was he able to exert himself as formerly, 
though he preached so d< Lilly, But on the 

Tuesday following, after a severe fit c/f coughing, he 
burst a blood-vessel, and then we began entirely to 
sdve him over. And, you know, two davs after this 
Mr, Worthy sent for him and his wife, who was obli- 
ged, through gilt:/, to part with the dear infant, to 
bang upon the breast of another woman, who was not 
its mother, in order that she might devote he utmost 
care to her dying husband, through the last stages of 
his disease. And oh, what an abundance of tears 
were shed while they thus passed through our village 
to Brookfield H all : all of us concluding that we should 
never see him again, who was so much beloved and 
respected by us! 

Rob. You know, father, I went to visit him seve- 
ral times when he was at Brookfield; and, I bless 
God, I did. What patience and resignation he show- 
ed throughout the whole of his sickness! He would 
say, that Goa had given him every earthly enjoy- 
ment that his heart could wish; that it would be hard 
parting with such an affectionate wife, and his new 
born babe, and a congregation that he loved as his 
own soul; but that he now could give them all up. 
That he only had to breathe out his soul into the 
hands of God, saying, " Thy kingdom come; thy 
will be done." 

Hon. Perhaps Mr. Inquisitive would like to hear 
what an affecting conversation took place between 
Mr. Merry man and his father, who came to see him 
at Brookfield before he died. 

Rob. Mr. Merry man was greatly agitated as soon 
as he heard his father designed to come and see him : 
and the first interview was affecting indeed. The 
father seeing his son, though lately a fine person- 



356 

able young man, so reduced, at once melted into 
tears, and cried, " Oh my child, I am sorry I did not 
set you a better example when you was young, 
as that may have been the cause of driving you 
into this extreme in religion which has brought you 
into your present state." Mr. Merry man cried, 
" Oh my dear father, what a mercy that 1 was not the 
cause of my own death, while living in the mad and 
wild ways of sin. What consolation could 1 have 
•obtained, if I had been in the like situation then, as 
I am now ?" His father added : " But my dear child, 
why did you run into danger by thus visiting the 
sick ? 5 ' Mr. Merryman answered, " O my dear fa- 
ther, duty called and I obeyed. I am sorry you should 
grieve over one, who feels more joy and happiness 
than words can express, adding, I have ' a hope full 
of immortality : ' believing in that blessed Christ, 
who has changed my heart, and pardoned all my 
sins, I can ' rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full 
of glory.' After this, though in extreme weakness 
he addressed his father in the most affectionate man- 
ner, assuring him that there was a reality in religion, 
which he humbly intreated him to seek after, as the 
greatest blessing that could be enjoyed in life, and 
the only cordial that could support us when sinking 
in the arms of death ; begging with many tears that 
he would mention the same to his dear mother, while 
he made it his last request that they would both seek 
for the salvation of their souls. 

Inquis. The father must have been much affected 
at such an exhortation. 

Rob. Very much so indeed, and they say a consi- 
derable alteration has taken place in his conduct. 
God grant it may be lasting ! 

lion. I think you were with him the day before he 
died. 

Bob. Yes : and I never shall forget with what holy 



triumph he expressed himself, while all the family 
stood weeping around his bed. "' Unto him that hath 
loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own 
blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God 
and his Father ; to him be glory and dominion for 
ever and ever! Amen." The last words I heard him 
utter were, " Bless the Lord, O my soul," that by 
faith I can say, with St. Stephen, 4 Behold I see the 
heavens opened, and the Sou of Man standing at the 
riffht-hand of God.' I shall soon be there." After 
this I saw no more of him till he was brought back 
in a hearse ; for it was his earnest desire to be buried 
among us. 

Inquis. I suppose, that the funeral of such a man 
must have been a most solemn scene. 

Hon. I don't think that in the memory of man 
such a funeral was ever known in our parish before. 
Almost all the inhabitants in our large village, who 
could get themselves a little decent mourning, went 
nearly two miles out of town to meet the hearse, that 
they might follow him to the grave. You might 
read the deepest grief upon every countenance. 
. Rob. Why, father, how could it be otherwise, 
when the cause of our grief was so universal ? Was 
he not the kind father and instructor of every poor 
man's child? Was he not the husband of every de- 
jected widow 7 ? Was there a case of distress, that he 
was not affectionately willing to attend to ? Was it 
possible to have a minister more zealous and atten- 
tive for the good of our souls ; more kind and friend- 
ly as a neighbour, and more exemplary in every 
point of view as an example to the flock oi Christy 
which he fed with so much simplicity of wisdom and 
spiritual understanding ! And when the funeral pro- 
cession entered the church, surely a more solemn 
scene was never exhibited \ Oh, could you hear but 
half the stories of his merciful attention to human 

Hh& 

§ 



358 

wbe, you would never have been astonished at the 
people's affection. But what made the scene by far 
more affecting was, that dear Mr. Lcvegood, who 
was the instrument in the hand of God to bring him 
to the know ledge of the powerful truths of the Gos- 
pel, had to lay him in the grave. He was so affected, 
that after several attempts he could not proceed. At 
length Mr. Brightman, who was sent for to supply 
for Mr. Merryman, was obliged to perform that of- 
fice; and while they were preparing to put the corpse 
into the grave, it was designed, that the children of 
the Sunday School should sing a solemn funeral 
hymn ; but instead of singing, recollecting the dear 
friend and instructor they had last, they -all burst 
into tears, and wept aloud over his grave. 

Inquis. How could you all stend such a moving 
sight ? 

Bob. Alas ! the tears of the poor children affected 
us all in such a manner, that there was scarcely a 
dry eye in the place. 

Shopman. Sir, Mr. and Mrs. Rhymerareintheshop. 

Mrs. Hon. [To her husband.) Do, my dear, step 
out and invite them in. {To Mr. Inquisitive.) Sir, 
they are only two of our neighbours. The gentle- 
man is a respectable tanner. Poor things, their 
hearts are as much broken dow T n as ours, on account 
of our loss. \_Mr. and Mrs. Rhymer come in and 
the conversation recommences. ~\ 

Hon. Sir, we were lamenting before this gentle- 
man, who is a rider from Manchester, our sad loss 
in cur minister ; he wondered to find us all in 
mourning ; and we have told him the cause of it. 

Inquis. Why really, sir, having been so much 
engaged in business, and in riding about from place 
to place for orders, I fear I have never thought of 
these things as I ought. I hope that the cause oi your 
grief will do me good, and lead me to consider mat- 
ters more attentively. 



359 

Rob. I pray God, it may ! I hope still that his 
death may be the life of many ; for even the very 
enemies of religion so greatly admired his character, 
that they never speak of him but in terms of the high- 
est respect. And now they join with us in lamenting 
the loss of him exceedingly. 

Rhym. But, sir, I am come to tell you who is to 
be our new rector. 

Hon. I fear we are in no hopes of having another 
Mr. Merryman ; but who is it ? 

Rhym. Sir, it is Mr. Tugwell ; he got it by being 
the pot companion of Mr. Toper, who is nearly re- 
lated to the patron. 

Hon. Oh, that will be shocking. 

Rhym. Not so shocking as you think for. 

Hon. Why what good can we ever get from an 
ignorant careless glutton ? 

Rhym. Why that is the comfort of it, he is so 
careiess, that, if he can but pamper his appetite, he 
cares no more about religion, than that Heathen ma- 
gistrate, Gallio, of old. I believe he thinks of no- 
thing but about taking care of his body, and he says 
the people may have who they like best to take care 
of their souls for them ; for he knows that all the 
people will run away from the church, and build 
themselves another place, unless they have one of 
Merryman* s way of thinking. 

Rob. Oh, what a mercy it would be, if he would 
but let Mr. Brightman be his curate ! He is a young 
man of very great ability, and, I humbly trust, blessed 
.with real Christianity. 

Rhym: Well,.! am told from pretty good autho- 
rity, that he will have no objection to Mr. Bright- 
man's having the curacy, provided -he will be con- 
tented with forty pounds a year ! — At the same time 
he means to raise the tythes, that he may pay the 
salary. 



360 

Inqnis. A mean old glutton ! How does he think 
that any one can live in these times for forty pounds 
a year ? 

Hon. Oh, well, never mind that, if we may but 
have a minister among us who preaches and lives the 
word of life. Should this be the case, what an unex- 
pected blessing will be conferred upon us I 

Rhym. Really, sir, I am happy to tell you, that it 
is almost a settled business ; and my errand here this 
evening, was to lay a plan, that Mr. Brightman may 
be provided with some suitable support. 

Rob. Blessed be God, this is the best news I have 
heard since our dear minister died. Father, how 
glad shall I be to work the harder, if you will but 
subscribe to Mr. Brightman's support 

Hon. I shall do it, my dear, with the utmost cheer- 
fulness ; and blessed be God that I have somewhat to 
spare for so good a cause ! 

Rhym. It will be much less expence to us to pay 
the curate, than build a place and provide a minister 
for ourselves. Besides, none of us want to leave the 
church, unless we are compelled to it, as thousands 
are by the bad doctrine and conduct of some of its mi- 
nisters : and I can tell you also, that Mr. Worthy of 
Brookfield-hall means to subscribe ten guineas a year 
towards Mr. Brightman's support, together with our- 
selves. 

Hon. What a generous heart he has got ! 

Rhym. Oh, sir, we shall not want supporters, if 
we can but keep the Gospel in the church. 

Mrs. Hon. Well, well, we will dry up all our 
tears notwithstanding cur heavy loss, should God 
restore to us the enjoyment of those mercies, which 
we have forfeited by our unprofitable attendance. 
In the midst of judgment he has remembered mercy, 
and we will praise his name* 



S61 

The reader will be very thankful to hear that, soon 
after Mr. Bright man became the curate of Sandover, 
things wait on the same as when Mr. Merry man was . 
their rector. Their new rector Tug well continued 
no longer among them than was necessary for him- 
sdlf, in raising the tythes, which were demanded 
with great moderation b)^ the invaluable Mr. Merry- 
man. Mr. Tugwell, however, to make up matters, 
gave leave to his curate to add to the pittance of his 
salary by raising his surplice fees. His maxim was 
to get ail he could, and to give as little as he could : 
as soon as he had raised the living upwards of another 
good round hundred, that he might have more to 
consume in good eating and drinking, away he 
drove. 

The friends of the late Mr. Merry man, however, 
behaved with much more generosity than to leave 
Mr. Brightman under the necessity of wringing the 
money out of the poor people's pockets by the sur- 
plice fees; while he, being a man of very lucid and 
brilliant abilities, it is to be hoped, that he will be 
kept as humble as he is able, and then the loss of 
dear Mr. Merryman will be little felt, though, when- 
ever recollected, much lamented. 



Thus the reader has the conclusion of my drama- 
tic attempts, and, if I may presume to anticipate, 
what may be the general sentiments of the public, 
I should suppose remarks similar to what follow may 
be expressed : — 

" This Mr. Lovegood isneither a.bigotted church- 
man nor a friend to stiff dissenters ; he is neither 
one thing nor -another, and for this, the rigid pro- 
fessors, on both sides of the question, will give it the 
author on both sides of Ms ears." This, however, 
will be to him nothing more than the old thing over 
again. 



362 

" He has lashed, say some, the regular clergy with 

the most contemptuous seventy." — Not the regular 
clergy. — Look at their names and characters, and 
say, for the credit of the church, Are these the regit* 
lar clergy ? The regular clergy he has treated with 
respect. 

cc A wicked wretch ! he hates the church, and wants 
to overturn it ! If it be not overturned by the above- 
mentioned regular clergy, regularly wicked, it v ill 
never be overturned by him. indeed! Indeed ! he 
loves the church and wishes for its reformation. 

" But we are sure he hates bitterly the state ; and 
Mr. Spiteful and his comrades will prove the fact." 
When he and his adherents * leave off abusing the 
government, under which they are protected them- 
selves, they will then be left at liberty to make good 
their mad rind wanton charges against others as fast 
as they can. 

" He is at times much too jocular." — How was the 
poor author to act under this charge ? Some have 
^privately advised a graver style, others have said, 
" Let every man appear in his own dress," He onl/ 
begs, that his kind critics would bear with him ; 
\ for if, at one time, he has been too jocular, at 
another time he has been too dull. 

" He has been holding up the doctrine of faith 
without works!" Strange assertion! let the reader 
put on his spectacles, lor his sight cannot be clear, 
and read again ; and then see, if the whole design of 
the book be not to prove that real Christianity in- 
spires holiness to God, devotedness to his glory, and 
universal benevolence towards all mankind. — " But 
he is certainly an advocate for the old free grace no- 
' tions of the reformers." — Yes, and let our modern 

* The Anti-Jacobin Reviewers, who have done more by their inflam- 
matory publications in kindling the present war than any other set of scrib- 
blers besides. 



36o ' 

reformers of the doctrines of the reformation prove, 
that they have done more against all the wickedness 
existing in this day, than these great men of God 
did in their day against popery and its concomitant 
evils ; and the point is given up. 

" But what will that terrible literary phlalanx, the 
Reviewers, say ?" Oh, that matter is easily settled ; 
they, like wise men of Gotham, tell the World, even 
by the title page of their books, under whose .service 
they have registered their brains and pens ; the man 
who minds them (I speak of them as a body) proves 
he has no mind of his own ; and the greatest literary 
amusement a man can have, if he has but time, is to 
read their most curious contradictions of each other. 
It appears, that a certain set of these reviewers has 
already discovered, that the writer of these dialogues 
is both a Solomon and a fool. If, however he may 
be permitted to speak for himself, he has been writing 
for no party — he wishes matters to stand as they are — 
he is for the existence of an establishment, together 
with a free toleration to all dissenters, under the pro- 
tection of the most excellent constitution, on which 
our government is framed — he is for no revolutions ; 
as whatever corruptions may defile us, an excellent 
platform for reformation is always before us. 

May that blessing, which is from above, be upon 
every reader, that whatever has been represented 
•that is evil, may be detested and rejected : and, on 
the contrary, may all that has been exhibited, which 
is lovely, honest, and of good report, be the abun- 
dant portion of every reader's heart. 



FIJYIS, 



PHILADELPHIA, April 12, 1806. 

W. W. WOODWARD, 

NO. 52, CORNER OF SECOND AND CHESNUT-STREETS, 
PHILADELPHIA, 

HAS published the Pocket Bible, and has them bonne 

at twelve different prices. Scott's Commentary — Fol, H 

3d. will be read?/ for subscribers in a short time, 1 

ter's Miscellaneous Works, in one neat Volume d 
cimo, containing Call to the Unconverted, Walk in 
Solitude, and Dying Thoughts — -just printed, i dc 
Scott's Essays on Important Subjects oj Scrip- 
ture — about 4O0 pages, nearly fnished, price i duller. 

Bigland's Letters, on the Study and Use of A 

and Modern History — in one handsome octavo volume just 

published, price 2 dollars bound and lettered. A neat J 

et edition 0/* Watt's Psalms and Hymns, just public!, 
plain copy, 75 cents — gilt backs, fine paper, 1 dollar — mar- 
bled backs, 125 cents; and morocco, 175 cents. lately 

published, Village Sermons, by George Burder — two 
volumes, 2 dollars, — second edition. — Also, Commentary 
en Songs sf Solomon, by T. Williams, of London — 175 
cents. Witherspoon's Works, 850 cents* 

IF. W. IF. has issued Proposals for supplying Subscri- 
bers with Scott's Commentary on the New Testament, 
~*he means those who cannot feel a freedom to subscribe for 
the whole work — price to Subscribers, 7 dollars; and the 
to be 8 dollars when the work is finished. — The whole of this 
valuable work may at present be subscribed for at 6 dollars 
per volume, for the four volumes — Fiz. 24 dollars the sett. 
which will shortly be raised to 28 dollars. — lie is in hour,, 
pectation of the new edition of Adams's Lectures on Na- 
tural and Experimental Philosophy, from London, 
from which his improved and enlarged edition will be 
published, with R. Patterson's Notes, &?<:• 

IF. IF. IF. keeps on hand a Large Assortment of Books 
£f? Stationary, Quarto Bibles, Octavo, Duodeci- 
mo, £5? Pocket, with Testaments, Primers, and ag 
variety of School Books. 



tuStSSiSX 0F CONGRESS 




iiiiifciH 



